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A'f/OO^iCf /s UW/?*/'« or- *-,•«*"«" ~~ ■ ', 


HXHellesle^ /Hja^astne 


The Decadence of the Republican Party. M. K. Conyngton, '94 . . . 175 

Offering. Mary Hollands McLean 185 

Two Italian Poets. Vida D. Scudder 185 

A Heptapodic Romance. C. E. G., '92 188 

^vThe Parson's Twins. Mary Jenks Page, '88 189 

The Dying Tear. S. C. W., '95 196 

Starlight 196 

An Incident of the Italian Revolution. Helen M. Kelsey, '95 . . . . 197 

Human Nature. Grace M. Dennison, '97 199 

Eleanor of Provence. Helen Pearson Maryesson, '96 201 

Fetters 201 

The Music of "Twelfth Night." Winifred Augsbury, '95 202 

A Tragedy 205 

; Paete, Non Dolet." Mary Grace Caldwell, '95 205 

i" Boots." Dorothy Allen . . . . 205 

Editorials 211 

Free Press 213 

Exchanges 218 

Book Review 221 

Society Notes -. 222 

College Bulletin 224 

College Notes 224 

Alumna Notes 226 

Married 232 

Born 232 

Died 232 


idol in — January 1895 — «o. 4 

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The Welle sley Magazine. 

Vol. III. WELLESLEY, JANUARY 12, 1895. No. 4. 








The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Senior Class. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss M. G. Caldwell, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press, 
■will be received by Miss Sarah C. Weed, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All alumnae news should be sent to Miss Maude R. Keller, Wellesley, Mass. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Elizabeth A. Stark, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications should in all cases be sent to 
Miss Alethea Ledyard, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Terms, $2.00 per year; single copies, 25 cents. Payment should be made by money order. 


At first sight such a title may seem strangely inappropriate for a time 
like this, when the Republicans have scored such a victory as they have not 
known for years past, a victory which recalls the old days of the " solid 
North," the days when it almost went without saying that all good men and 
loyal citizens would vote for the Republican candidate, and when the Democratic 
party had a fair prospect of going out of sight forever north of Mason 
and Dixon's Line. And yet, the series of political changes of which this 
last election has been the climax show, perhaps, more plainly than any other 
indication, how far the party has lost its hold on the mass of voters. There 
was a time when, to the average man, party allegiance was almost a religion ; 
possibly we might say that it is so still, only now, instead of being an object 
of loyal devotion, the party has become the fetich of a savage, — to be extrav- 
agantly lauded and honored when times are good, and to be cast out with 
abuse and contumely, when times are bad. 


But if, turning from the mere outward successes of the party, we look 
at its principles and personnel, its decadence becomes even more marked. 
When the party first came into power, it was pre-eminently a party of prin- 
ciple. Its leaders were the wisest statesmen, the profoundest thinkers, the 
truest patriots, the most conscientious apostles of freedom throughout the 
whole North. In its ranks were found moral earnestness, intelligence, devo- 
tion to principle, unswerving adherence to a noble cause. From Maine to 
California the native Americans united in its support ; the conscience and in- 
tellect of New England, the unfaltering enthusiasm of the Middle States, 
the fiery dash and impetuosity of the West, pressed to its service. And it 
justified their devotion right royally. It was not only the party of great 
men, it was the party of great principles. Organized originally to resist 
the extension and perpetuation of slavery, it came to stand for the idea of 
loyalty, for the preservation of the Union. Later it stood for freedom and 
equal rights to all, and it was a pai'ty of performance, as well as of theory. 
It had no need of lengthy platforms to announce the faith that was in it, for 
it translated its principles into practice, and none could mistake them. 

Such was the Republican party ; to-day what is it? It is no longer the 
party of great men. A few of the old names still linger in its ranks, but 
they belong to a former generation, and no new men are coming forward to 
fill their places. Thirty years ago it contained the best minds of the coun- 
try ; to-day, the significant assertion is made that not a single president of 
an Eastern college is to be found in its ranks. Worse still, it is no longer 
a party of principle. It would be hard to mention one theory beyond that 
of the desirability of keeping their party in power, which one could count 
on finding supported by all, or even by a large majority of Republicans. In 
1860 and 1864 the success of the party was a matter of vital import ; but 
who to-day votes the Republican ticket on principle, or seriously believes 
that it makes any material difference to the prosperity and honor of the coun- 
try which of the two great parties is in control ? 

In considering this alteration in the party, one notices two distinct 
periods of decadence, each with its marked characteristics, and each produc- 
ing a corresponding revolt of the better class of voters. In the first period, 
'65 to '72, the degeneration was largely due to external causes, — to the condi- 
tions which the war had brought about both within and without the party 


organization ; in the second period, from '72 to the present time, the deteriora- 
tion was due to the working out of tendencies inherent in the party itself. 
During the first stage the errors of the Republicans were conspicuous and of 
rapid development, and the revolt of public sentiment against them was no 
less pronounced and violent. Throughout the second, the influences drag- 
ging the party down have been quieter, more gradual, and more pervasive 
in their operation, and, naturally, the movement away from the ranks caused 
by them has been far more serious and permanent than the work of '72. 
In the first period the party made serious mistakes, but it had the courage 
of its convictions ; in the second, its mistakes were less obvious, but show 
a deeper moral deterioration. The first stage in the downward course pro- 
duced the Liberal Republican movement ; the second brought about the 
more serious defection of the Independents and Mugwumps ; and in con- 
sidering the causes of these two movements, we consider the causes of the 
decline of the Republican party. 

First, then, as to the Liberal Republican movement. Its causes were 
twofold : the attitude of the Republicans toward reconstruction, and the 
political corruption of the party. The latter cause became so much more 
effective in the second period, that it may better be considered in that con- 
nection. For the former, let us briefly review the changing tendency of the 

When, in 1863, Lincoln proposed his plan of reconstruction, there is 
no evidence of a disposition on the part of the Republicans to use their power 
vindictively, or to exact from the South anything in the way of a penalty. 
There was a determination that the fruits of the war should not be lost ; the 
supremacy of the Union must be admitted, the abolition of slavery must 
be accepted ; but that was all. When, however, in the troubled years 
between '65 and '68, Seward and Johnson attempted to carry out a plan of 
reconstruction much like Lincoln's, it became evident that the spirit of the 
party had changed. From '65 to the time when the last State was restored 
to the Union, there was ground for complaint that Congress had become both 
vindictive and vacillating. It was not only that prominent members talked 
at wearisome length of the necessity for punishing the South, the advisability 
of " bringing it to its knees," of forcing it to bring forth " works meet for 
repentance." Had there been nothing but talk, then, however one might 


have questioned the taste and generosity of the speakers, there would have 
been no ground of complaint against the party. But, unfortunately, what 
was said was less than what was done. Condition after condition was 
imposed, and more than once a State, having fully complied with the 
requirements of Congress, found that in the meantime some new test had 
been decided upon, and Congress denied or delayed admission to the dele- 
gates elected under its own guaranties. Perhaps one might assign two 
reasons for this change in the attitude of the Republicans. The first was a 
sincere and well-founded belief that were the States too lightly readmitted 
the negroes would be practically re-enslaved. The second is less creditable 
to the party. There had taken place an unmistakable development of party 
feeling, and of determination that political supremacy should remain in the 
hands of the Eepublicans. There were several causes for this retrogression. 
The strength the Democrats showed in the elections of '64 had alarmed their 
opponents. The assassination of Lincoln had greatly increased the bitter- 
ness of Northern feeling toward the South, and the struggle between Johnson 
and his party tended constantly to strengthen this sentiment. Moreover, 
in the natural course of political development, the baser element was coming 
to the front in the Republican party. It is inevitable that success should 
attract a swarm of political adventurers who care nothing for principle but 
much for place, and who will sacrifice the interests of the nation to their own 
without scruple. To this element the one important point was that Repub- 
lican supremacy should be maintained, and this they were determined to 
secure at any cost. Yet if the seceding States were readmitted on the 
terms proposed by Lincoln and later by Johnson, it was certain that Repub- 
lican ascendancy would be endangered, if not lost. Naturally, then, the 
place hunters were resolute in demanding a sterner policy of reconstruction. 
So, affected by the bitterness of feeling which developed after hostilities 
were practically over, swayed by a fear of Democratic ascendancy which was 
partly due to disinterested devotion to the national welfare and partly caused 
by a keen sense of their personal interests, and influenced by a wholly 
generous desire to protect the negro, the Republican party entered upon a 
series of rather remarkable actions. At first it was found necessary to 
defend the constitutional rights of the colored race by measures of, to say 
the least, doubtful constitutionality. Then the right of suffrage was con- 


ferred upon a population of four million whose only training for it had been 
received in the school of slavery. Then, to teach these recently emancipated 
negroes how to use their ballots, the South was overrun with carpet- 
bao-<rers and politicians of the corner grocery type ; and when the educated 
and respectable part of the Southern population objected to the class rule, 
which was made possible only through their own partial disfranchisement, 
the military forces of the Union were called on to support the governments 
which, without such aid, could not have stood a day. Then, having com- 
pletely inverted the social pyramid, having thrown political control into the 
hands of the most ignorant and debased portion of the community, having 
produced throughout the seceding States a reign of confusion, of disorder, of 
corrupt and reckless misgovernment, compared with which the conditions 
prevailing during the war had been mild and pleasant, the reconstructionists 
stood off and called on the whole world to admire their work, and to wonder 
at the wickedness of a people who could oppose a government of negroes 
and carpetbaggers, supported by Federal, armies. What wonder that 
sympathy for the South was roused, and that many a fair-minded Northerner 
felt that reconstruction really meant something very like revenge, and that 
solicitude for the rights of the negroes was used as a cloak to hide a vindic- 
tive determination to punish the South, and an unscrupulous determination 
to keep the Republican party in power at all hazards ! 

But there was another feature of the Republican attitude toward recon- 
struction which was, perhaps, equally effective in alienating some of the 
leading men, and that was the strong tendency toward a centralization of 
power which the Republicans showed. During the war even the indefinite 
war powers of the central government had been stretched to the utmost ; but 
all felt that the needs of the time justified such action, and that it was better 
to have a strong, even a despotic central government than none at all. The 
same plea of necessity justified some of the extra-constitutional measures 
taken for the protection of the freedmen immediately after the war ; but 
when year after year passed away and Congress showed no disposition to 
resign anything of the power it had assumed, but seemed instead disposed 
to extend it, not a few in the party began to feel that the principle of 
centralization was being carried too far, and that now, as in the heyday of 
the Federal party, there was need of a vigorous opposition if local autonomy 


was not to be seriously endangered. It was felt to be a question of national 
importance ; for, as Cairnes had pointed out years before, love of authority 
grows with its exercise, and if Congress could assume supreme power over 
the Southern States, there was no good reason why it should not extend 
this power to include the Northern. More than one of the reconstruction 
measures were felt to be a serious menace to the independence of the 
States. "The Georgia bill," says a Northern writer of the times, "has 
effectually put an end to all the rights formerly reserved to the States, and 
has vested them in Congress." The Supreme Court bill of 1870 was 
viewed with more alarm, as an attempt to subordinate the judicial power of 
the nation to Congress, and to make the latter the supreme and final judge 
of the extent of its own judicial authority. But when, in 1871, the Force 
Bill was passed, it became evident that Congress had gone further than the 
party, as a whole, would consent to be led, and that a defection was 

Such seem to have been the causes of the Liberal Republican move- 
ment. It is doubtful whether either of them alone would have been 
sufficient to force out from the party the men who made up this revolt, but 
the two, combined with the growing evidences of corruption in the Republi- 
can organization, were too strong to be resisted. Men like Sumner, for 
instance, could not remain in the old party ; there was no place there for 
them. Neither could they go into the Democratic party, which at that time 
had not accepted the results of the war, and was as far from adopting their 
principles in the one direction as the Republicans were in the other ; and so 
they were forced into the doubtful experiment of attempting to found a new 
party — the Liberal Republicans. It is no part of this paper to give an 
account of the new party, or to consider the causes for its failure. Its only 
feature of interest to us is found in certain results it produced in the Repub- 
lican party, which will become apparent as we consider the next period. 

The causes for the rise and growth of a body of independent voters 
between 1872 and 1892 are not so definite and clear cut as the causes for 
the Liberal Republican movement, and the difficulty of deciding upon them 
is increased by the fact that we are leaving the domain of history, and 
coming down to the sphere of contemporary politics, in which opinions and 
partisan statements are so plentiful that facts are rather hard to discover. 


Nevertheless, I believe one may safely assert these three causes for the rise of 
the independent voter : First, the corruption existing in the Republican party. 
(This does not, of course, imply that the corruption of the Republican party 
has been greater than that of the Democrats, except in so far as the former had 
the greater opportunities, but whereas the better class of Republicans were 
driven out by this, the Democrats, as a whole, seem to have accepted it very 
calmly.) Second, the timidity the Republican party has shown in taking 
any decided stand upon the new questions which have come up since the 
war. Third, the growing conviction, due to these two causes, that desirable 
results may be secured more effectually by action outside of party lines than 

First, as to the corruption of the Republican party. At first sight it 
seems strange that a party of principle, as it was in its inception, containing 
the best and purest of our public men, should sink so quickly and to such 
a depth in the mire of political corruption; but there was sufficient reason. 
"Every political movement," says some writer, "must go through three 
phases, the revolutionary, the constructive, and the administrative, and each 
of these in turn demands its whole attention." There is no question that 
between 1860 and 1870 the Republican party was going through the 
revolutionary and constructive phases, and all the mind and conscience the 
party had were needed for these problems. The administrative side was 
left to get along as best it could, with the natural result that it got along 
very badly indeed. The war increased enormously the number of offices 
and the chances for dishonest practices, at the same time that it withdrew 
public attention from what was going on there. After the war, reconstruc- 
tion was the absorbing question for the better element of the party, and it, 
again, furnished increased opportunity for political jobbery. Everything 
seemed to combine to help along this tendency to corruption. The 
absorption of the nation in the great question of the war, the period of 
general demoralization which followed on the return of peace, the inexpe- 
rience of some of the highest officials, and the very shady experience of 
others — all worked to the same end. The Liberal Republican movement, 
which might have served as a check on the tendency, seemed rather to 
increase it, and that in two ways : it took out of the party a number of the 
best men, so that the baser element became relatively stronger ; and this 


disreputable element, seeing that the Liberal Republican movement was a 
failure, felt itself strong enough to get on without the aid of the reputable 
portion, and became more defiantly regardless of all restraints, save those 
of self-interest, than ever before. This tendency reached its climax in 
Grant's second term. Matters have been bad enough since then, often and 
often, but they have never come to quite such a pitch. It is not worth 
while to dwell on the scandals which disgraced the dominant party during 
those years ; they are not pleasant reading for any one who cares for either 
the organization or the country. 

This first cause, however, effective as it was, does not seem to have 
been the strongest reason for the rise of the independent voter. A man 
might thoroughly detest the corruption of his party, and yet, for the sake of 
the principles it advocated, do his best to keep it in power ; but the trouble 
with the Republican party was that by '76 it had no principles, or, at least, 
none worth fighting for. The principles on which it came into existence 
had been carried into effect, and the party had no others. New questions 
were coming to the front, and the party dared not take any definite position 
on them. The old questions were dead issues, the country was moving on, 
and the Republican party, instead of being in the van of the movement, 
spent half its energy in the endeavor not to commit itself to anything, and 
the other half in arguing that since it had once done a splendid work, it was 
perfectly obvious that no other party could ever be safely trusted with the 
reins of power. To understand the cause of this timidity, we have to go 
back to the origin of the party. When, in 1856, the Republican party first 
placed a presidential candidate in the field, its one purpose was to restrict 
the spread of slavery into the Territories. Later, its constitutional oppo- 
sition to slavery deepened and widened into a passion for the Union which 
absorbed all matters of lesser import, and caused all minor disagreements to 
drop out of sight. "The members of the party," says one of its early 
leaders, " united on an object, not a creed." As a consequence, men of 
every shade of political belief and unbelief, except on the two great questions 
of slavery and the war, enrolled themselves under its banners. There were 
tariff men and free traders, conservative Whigs and radical Democrats, 
Know-nothings and anti-Know-nothings, strict constructionists and Feder- 
alists. For a time these diverse, if not absolutely antagonistic, elements 


were held together by the strong centripetal force of their common love for 
the Union and their common pui'pose to save it ; but after that purpose had 
been achieved, what remained for it as a party? The work for which it 
had been formed was accomplished. It could pursue a definite policy on the 
new questions now coming up for solution only at the cost of alienating some 
portion of its supporters. Inaction would not satisfy its adherents, but 
action was pretty sure to dissatisfy them. So the Republican party tried 
very hard to please all men by its platforms and offend none by its practice, 
and to make up for its lack of principles by a plentiful supply of promises, 
with the natural result of discrediting its pledges, and causing all but the 
politician class to question whether it had any good reason for still ex- 
isting. This doubt began to show itself as soon as the matter of recon- 
struction was fairly out of the way. " The two parties," says one critic in 
'72, " have had in times past definite principles on which to act, or definite 
objects to attain. They are both now generally admitted to be destitute of 
either, except that the one party, being in control of affairs, desires to 
retain that control ; and the other, not having been in control for some 
twelve j^ears, desires to regain it." By 1876, one of their leaders remarked 
that the Republicans reminded him of nothing so much as an army whose 
term of enlistment had expired ; and another, after comparing the platforms 
of the two parties, observes : " The only difference between them seems to 
be that the Republicans assert that the Democrats, if elected, will not keep 
their promises of good government ; while the Democrats retort, with some 
show of reason, that the Republicans have not kept theirs." 

In this state of affairs, with a great deal in the practice of the Re- 
publican party to offend the better class, and very little in its principles to 
attract them, it may seem singular that the Independent movement was of 
such slow growth; for though it had begun before '76, it was not until '84 
that it was recognized as a factor to be taken into account in casting up the 
political sum. This slowness was largely due to a fear of throwing the 
control of affairs into Democratic hands, and still more to a real attachment 
to the party. Naturally the fear of Democratic rule grew weaker and 
weaker as the Democrats emerged from the shadow of their war record, and 
as it was found that they were regaining one degree of power after another 
without the country's being ruined thereby . Still, the fear was deeply rooted, 


and even after their votes had elected Cleveland, the independent voters seem 
to have been very dubious as to the outcome of this change in party rule. 
But perhaps a stronger reason than fear of the Democrats was party attach- 
ment. This was to some extent an almost superstitious reverence for the 
party as an " enduring organization corresponding to the old-fashioned idea 
of a church, outside of which no good thing can exist, and inside of which 
all good things must originate." But stronger than this was a real devotion 
to the party itself. It had meant so much, it had stood for such high 
principle and such heroic practice, its followers had supported it with such 
ardent enthusiasm and had felt their devotion so richly justified once, that 
it was hard for them to turn away from it. They did not do so lightly ; 
they tried again and again to reform the party from within, but every year 
showed more plainly that this was impossible ; and the same love for their 
country's welfare which had once brought them into the Republican column 
now forced them reluctantly out of it. They did not wish to form a new 
party. The experiment of '72 had shown the difficulties and dangers of such 
a course, and after the election of '84 it became evident that by binding 
themselves by no pledges, but by holding themselves ready to vote for 
whichever party should bring forward the better men and purer measures, 
they could accomplish far more than by uniting themselves with any party 

Such seem to be the principal reasons for the alteration in the character 
of the Republican party. Its attitude toward reconstruction drove out many 
of its prominent men, and brought the first marked diminution of its power. 
Later, its own corruption, its political timidity, its persistent clinging to 
dead issues and equally persistent refusal to adapt itself to the needs of the 
present day, have gradually alienated the intellect and moral sentiment of 
the party. The legitimate descendants of the men who made the Republican 
party what it was in its early days are in the ranks of the independent 
voters, and their places have been filled by the conservatives who cling to 
the old order merely because it is old, by the professional politician and the 
spoilsman. The glory of the organization has departed, and the Republican 
party of to-day is a pitiable travesty upon the party, strong in its principles, 
in its leaders and its followers, which came into power thirty-four years ago. 

M. K. CONTNGTON, '94. 



No wondrous gifts of poesy nor song 

Have I to bring and lay at thy dear feet, 

Where many offer daily, as is meet, 
The incense of devotion, pure and strong. 
My songs are only thoughts, but thoughts so long 

They make the broken intervals complete, 

And bring my soul from far with thine to meet 
At Love's great golden altar. In the throng 

Only thy face I see ; thy gentle voice 
Sounds in mine ear with sweeter tone than all. 

Others may sing for thee, I may not ; mine 

Is but to stand and love thee, and rejoice 
In all the blessings that upon thee fall, 

And pray my simple prayer, "All good be thine." 

Maey Hollands McLean. 


"Political Italy is a fact," said, twenty years ago, Carducci, her 
greatest modern man of letters. "It is now our part to recreate Italy 
moral, Italy intellectual, Italy living and true." Since the words were 
uttered, what signs of the appearance of this new Italy? So far as 
literature is concerned, there seem candidly to be few ; yet the attentive 
foreigner, listening, hears now and then a name round which the enthusiasm 
of the Italian youth seems to gather. 

Two of the more important of such names seem, just now, to be 
Gabriel DAumunzio and Ada Negri. These poets, both under thirty, 
stand more or less for the young Italy of the hour, and their slender 
volumes run swiftly into third or fifth editions. 

It is not hard to find the literary kindred of D'Aumunzio. We should 
perhaps feel flattered that his poetry, like much on the continent to-day, is 
inspired by English models, and even by American. He is one of, may we 
say, the exasperatingly large number of literary Europeans who, ignorant 
of the names of Emerson or Lowell, have nurtured their young genius 
and fed their young enthusiasms on the perusal of Whitman and " Po-e." 


Also, he has read Rossetti ; also, he has contemplated the creations of 
Burne-Jones-Symboliet ; decadent, what you will, his work is echo-music. 
As Italian, and young, DAumunzio has also read Carducci ; but the 
sounding patriotic verse in which he follows the tradition of the greater 
master, rings to the outsider a little hollow. His power — which is real — 
lies in the production of what may be described as the Condensed Thrill. 
A poemlet of a dozen stanzas : a languid description of weary landscape, 
weary man, and wearier woman — and at the end a leap, a throb, a flash. 
Much of his poetry is, I am told, unreadable. The " Poema Paradisaico " 
is a series of lyrics, woven into a kind of unity by a story of passion hinted, 
but never told. Its subtlety — for subtle it is — is of that modern order Avhich 
follows the dearth of large experience. The poetry of decadence, worn 
out young, it seeks in the use of motifs of innocence and tenderness an 
indirect suggestion of the reverse, and a new sting for the jaded soul. This 
sort of inspiration makes the author open the volume with very pretty lines 
to his old nurse. The best poems deal with the return of the man weary 
with passion to the home-shelter, where, feigning peace and seeking oblivion, 
he finds forever — memory. The poems of direct passion are, as was thought 
long ago of Rossetti, very queer. It is the Charm of the Withered to 
which DAumunzio appears peculiarly susceptible, in nature, emotion, and 
even in women. There would be something depressing and alarming in 
these studies of faded feeling did we not suspect, in their premature 
lassitude, a new literary device. Even as it is, the poems are melancholy, 
so far as they suggest the absence of wide and normal pleasures in the 
Italy of to-day. DAumunzio holds more of " Po-e" than of Whitman. 
" Hortus Savarum," " The Garden of Ghosts," is a sub-title in his poem ; it 
might cover the whole volume. 

The pessimism in DAumunzio is that of a youth highly civilized, in 
which the space between physical life and sensitized emotions is filled neither 
by moral nor intellectual interests, and the passions accordingly play either 
in the void or on the flesh. The pessimism, or rather the sadness, of the 
other young Italian poet, Ada Negri, is more vehement, but also more 
substantial. One feels that it may leap at any moment into vigorous hope. 
Her inspiration is simple, wide, and strong. She has found what the man 
lacks, — a cause and a theme. The cause is socialism ; the theme, the People. 


An introduction, by a friend, gives us a glimpse of the life of this young 
girl : daughter of a workwoman, mistress of a village school ; living twenty 
years — and in Italy, ye tourists ! — with never a glimpse of mountain, ocean, 
or city ; filled on her first visit to Milan with febrile excitement ; but of this 
isolation, profound as that in which, on the Yorkshire moors, another girl a 
generation ago dreamed " Jane Eyre," has come a slender volume of poems. 
Unliterary, and, if a stranger may hazard an impression, often crude in 
technique, the verses yet throb with authentic life, and have assuredly at 
times the lyric cry, the lyric rush. While the man of the world is shut in 
upon the world of personal sentiment, the verse of this young recluse beats 
with the sense of modern life. Her subjects recall Morris, but are more 
specific. Often they are stern, sad, and vigorous. The corpse of one who 
has died of hunger speaks under the scalpel. We note the funeral pro- 
cession of the workman who has fallen from the roof; we hearken to the 
hush in the song of factory workers as the hand of a woman is caught in the 
gruesome machine. Grim discouragement sounds through some of the 
poems, as the dialogue between the soul and the phantoms of the drowned, 
who slowly rise, with slaver on their lips, confronting and inviting. As the 
sunset dies on these green phantoms, the quiet sea seems in the twilight a 
bed for sleep. Of like motif, but different handling, is the poem where we 
behold the great host of the conquered, and listen to their wail. Often, 
however, we have a happier note : the love poetry of the People, good and 
gay ; the happy toil of the working mother, laboring that her son may 
learn, and in days to come bear the oriflamme of the people ; the love for the 
street gamin, dirty and beautiful — as he is in Italy. Again, with a larger 
inspiration, we hear in the mighty whirr of the machines in a factory the 
harsh song of the future, the appeal to the champions of happier work to be. 
The Song of the Spade, a very different implement from that respectable one 
once addressed by Wordsworth, moves with really splendid buoyancy from 
harsh realism to a prophecy of vigorous health and peace. 

The personal poems scattered through the volume show a wild, pathetic 
claim of freedom in the confined youthful nature. The love of the mother 
is the most sincere personal feeling which plays through them. This also 
forms a favorite theme with DAumunzio, and it is interesting to compare the 
direct simplicity of the woman with the constant innuendo by which in the 


man, the purest of feelings is made to suggest others, concealed. The con- 
trast is representative. It is the work of the woman in these two little 
volumes which is virile in directness and breadth ; it is the work of the man 
which reveals the malaise of hysteria. Taken all in all, it is hardly too 
much to say that the pessimism of D'Aumunzio is that of a woi'ld outworn, 
while the sadness of Ada Negri is that of a new world pressing for utterance. 



She was a college graduate, a modest little maid, 

Appearing at her first great ball, in simple white arrayed ; 

So blissfully unconscious of the whispers all around, 

Which spread her reputation for a learning quite profound. 

In awe-struck tones they told of how she had been taught to speak 

In French, Italian, German, Anglo-Saxon, Latin, Greek; 

So in the ball-room corner all alone she sat in state, 

For the young men fled in terror from the college graduate. 

He was a nice young fellow, with a homely, honest face, 
Who claimed to dance, though not, in truth, a paragon of grace; 
Who was too gallant to idly hang about the ball-room door 
If only half the ladies there were waltzing on the floor. 
But he was not yet an adept in the art of being bright, 
And he had a knack of saying just the thing that was not right ; 
So the belles he had engaged to dance were not disposed to wait, 
And he found his only partner was the college graduate. 

They might have talked of Plato, and the work which he began, 
Or discussed the evolution of the animal called man; 
They might have joined in M. Aurelius Antoninus' praise, 
Or labored through some other topic known to student days; 
But though these highly interesting subjects were not tried, 
And not a wise nor witty thing was said on either side, 
Yet often since that evening he has blessed the kindly fate 
Through which his only partner was the college graduate. 

C. E. G., '92. 
*See Century Dictionary. 



In early life they were known as the "Parson's Twins"; later, they 
were spoken of as " Hetty and Orthy Limner" ; and finally, when the June 
time of life was over, when the pink on Hetty's cheeks had faded, and the 
brightness of Orthy 's brown eyes was growing a little dim, they were 
called by all the simple folk of the little seaside settlement, " Miss Orthy" 
and " Miss Hetty," and the name of Limner was wellnigh forgotten. 

For nearly forty years their father had been the village pastor ; a 
faithful shepherd who had gone in and out before his people with Christian 
conduct and spiritual consistency unchallenged, until at the age of sixty-one 
he had seen fit to marry a second time. If only he had been content to 
choose for himself as his devoted people would gladly have chosen for him, 
no adverse criticism would have been made, and the scriptural explanation 
that "it is not good for man to be alone," would have been unquestion- 
ingly accepted. But when good Parson Limner ventured to pass by the 
elect Single of his congregation, and raised to the exalted position of " the 
minister's wife" shy little Rachel Wheeler, who had just counted her twenti- 
eth summer, the village was righteously aghast. They never knew — how 
could they? — that the sweet face raised toward the old pulpit, and the 
gentle eyes that looked so humbly and reverently into his, had much to do 
with the very perceptible "softening" of their pastor's sermons all that 

One sunny April day they were married ; and in a little more than a 
year there stood in the village churchyard, at the head of a narrow green 
mound, a white stone, on which was written Rachel's name. In the little 
parsonage across the road, lay two small bundles of cotton and wool, from 
the depths of which tiny speckled fists were thrust forth from time to time, 
only to beat the air frantically for a minute, and then sink again out of 

Soon after this the parson began to fail. It was a strange case, every- 
one said. There seemed to be no definite symptoms of any sort, but he 
grew weaker and weaker, and the doctor shook his head more ominously 
after each visit, until one morning the village flock awoke to find itself 


Ann Evans, Rachel's aunt, was the only watcher at hand when the end 
came. The sick man stirred restlessly, and his lips moved. Aunt Ann 
bent over the bed and caught the faintly muttered words, "Rachel — 
children," then all was still. "It's somethin' about those twins; perhaps 
it's come to him they ain't named yet," she thought, and watched anxiously 
for further signs of consciousness. The candle burned low in its socket, but 
she dared not leave the room for another. The pale lips moved again. 
The sound was even fainter than before, but Aunt Ann did not lose a 
syllable. "Orthodoxy — Heterodoxy," he whispered. The candle flame 
flickered and went out. When Aunt Ann brought a fresh light to the bed- 
side she knew that Parson Limner's soul had been released. Calling a 
sister watcher to take her place, she went into the kitchen and sat down 
before the fire in great perplexity of mind. 

"Folks '11 be askin' about his last words, an' if he didn't say nothin' 
about the children, an' I'll have to say ' Yes,' an' they'll think they're 
dreadful queer names," she said to herself. " An' yet, I ain't one to go 
contrary to a dyin' man's wish." She rested her elbows on her knees, 
put her chin in her hands, and gazed gloomily into the fire. At length 
she grew more cheerful. "I guess I'll say he named 'em 'Orthy' and 
' Hetty.' That ain't so bad, an' 'twont be a lie, neither." But conscience 
was not yet satisfied. "I s'pose I might put in the rest for a middle 
name," she thought, anxious to keep to the strict letter of the law, if, in 
so doing, she would not compromise the parson's reputation for soundness 
of mind. 

She rose from her chair, brought from a closet shelf a scrap of paper, 
and with a bit of pencil traced in cramped, angular letters, 

Orthy Doxy Limner. 
Hetty Rodoxy Limner. 

Then with a grim determination to settle the matter beyond question, she 
went into the dark, stuffy little parlor, brought out the old Bible, turned 
to the family record, and with a rusty pen, found after much search among 
the household possessions (she did not venture into the Parson's study), 
wrote under her dead niece's name, Children, Orthy D. Limner, Hetty 
R. Limner, Born May 3, 1830. 


As soon as Parson Limner had been carried to his resting place, by 
Rachel's side, Aunt Ann took the twins to her little cottage on the " Shore 
Road," and there, under her watchful eye, they grew from babyhood to 
girlhood, and from girlhood to womanhood, unmindful of their early loss. 

Sixty years had rolled away. Aunt Ann had long ago been laid to 
rest, and the sisters still lived in the little brown house on the "Shore 
Road." Their names had been singularly appropriate. In childhood it was 
Orthy who always stood at the foot of the apple tree in the little garden, 
while Hetty climbed to the topmost bough and shook down the juicy yellow 
fruit. It was Hetty who, in their early excursions to a neighboring cove, 
used to clamber out on a dangerous rock and face the incoming tide, until 
it seemed if as each succeeding wave, toppling over with thunderous roar, 
its white mane blown back by the wind, would wash the venturesome little 
sprite from her perch. But a spray bath was the worst fortune that ever 
befell her, and with a mocking laugh she would fly back triumphant to the 
sand, where Orthy, pale and trembling, stood waiting to drag her to home 
and safety. 

They differed as much in appearance as in temperament. Orthy's 
straight, brown hair was the delight of Aunt Ann's heart, in its glossy 
" slickness" ; while Hetty's rebellious yellow locks filled her with despair, 
for no amount of brushing or wetting would subdue their objectionable 
" kink." Hetty's frocks were usually adorned with three-cornered rents 
and disfiguring stains when she had worn them a day, while Orthy's were 
almost as fresh at the end of the week as at the beginning. Yet these 
very differences seemed only to knit their hearts more closely together, 
and it was the commonly accepted opinion in the little village that they 
never married because no one man could well wed them both, ,and 
separation was not to be thought of for a minute. 

The harmony existing in this little household became a byword, and 
when a young couple started off on the presumably stormy seas of matri- 
mony, no higher commendation could be given them, according to local 
standards, than to say that they got on together "as peaceful as Miss 
Orthy and Miss Hetty." 

But one day a storm arose ; the winds of discord blew, and the waves 
of dissension beat against that house and well-nigh overwhelmed "the 
Parson's Twins." 


It happened in this way. At seven o'clock on the morning of that 
fateful day, the butcher's cart stopped in front of the cottage, and Billy 
Perkins, the Jehu of the canvas-topped vehicle, rapped vigorously on the 
weather-beaten door. This unwonted event sent Miss Orthy to investigate 
the cause at an unusually high rate of speed, only to find her sister at the 
door before her, and to hear her unceremonious greeting, " Bless your 
heart, Billy Perkins, what are you here for?" To which Miss Orthy 
hastened to add an inquiring " Good morning, William?" 

The young driver explained that Mr. Biggins, the butcher, thought they 
might be out of fresh meat, and had sent them a piece of lamb. Scarcely 
waiting for the profuse thanks showered impartially upon Mr. Biggins for 
the sending, and himself for the bringing, of so rich a gift, Billy climbed 
back into his seat, and the cart rattled away down the stony road. 

Mindful of the scrimped household purse and of many a scanty meal, 
Miss Orthy and Miss Hetty looked at each other wonderingly as the mag- 
nitude of their good fortune dawned upon them. They did not need to 
speak. Each knew the unvoiced emotions of the other's heart. Miss 
Orthy took hold of one end of the long brown-paper parcel, Miss Hetty 
grasped the other, and with genuine solemnity they bore their prize along 
the narrow passageway to the kitchen, and laid it in the middle of the 
table. Then they sat down and rested. When the excitement had subsided 
a little, Miss Orthy rose from her chair, set an iron pot ou the stove, and 
filled it nearly full of water. 

" What are you goin' to do, Orthy?" queried Miss Hetty, mildly. 

" Well, I thought the sooner that lamb was boiling the better, if we 
want it for dinner," Orthy replied, beginning to untie the string around 
the package. 

" Do you know, Orthy," continued her sister, " as I've been sittin' 
here, I've been thinkin' that lamb would be nice roasted. I don't know 
when I've tasted a bit of fresh, roasted lamb." 

By this time the contents of the bundle were revealed. 

"Yes," Orthy replied; "but this isn't a roasting piece. We've 
always boiled this kind. Don't you remember that piece of lamb we had 
when Nathan Low's family came to dinner? Aunt Ann boiled it." 

" I don't see any reason why we should always boil it just because we 


did once," remonstrated Miss Hetty, with more firmness, as she tasted in 
imagination the crisp deliciousness of an outside slice of nicely roasted 

"Well, I do," said Orthy, with unwonted sharpness; "we might 
spoil it." 

" Yes, and we might not," rejoined Hetty, with greater emphasis. 

Argument grew hotter. Voices were pitched in a higher key. At 
noon the lamb, uncooked, lay in its paper wrapping in the center of the 
kitchen table. At a quarter after twelve Miss Orthy ate some bread and 
drank some tea in the little pantry. At a half after twelve Miss Hetty ate 
some cold gingerbread and drank a cup of milk, sitting on the back 

At five o'clock the situation was unchanged. The lamb still lay 
untouched on the table. No word had been spoken since nine in the 
morning. The two suppers were eaten independently. In the evening 
the sisters knitted diligently. The clicking of the needles was the only 
sound that broke the silence. At a quarter before nine Miss Orthy put 
away her work and took down from a shelf an old, worn Bible. Every 
night for nearly fifty years, she and Hetty had read together a chapter 
from the little black book. To-night the reader opened at random. " Let 

not the sun go down upon " Miss Orthy closed the book quickly ; then 

turned deliberately to the third chapter of Chronicles, feeling that an 
account of the sons of David, his line to Zedekiah, and the successors of 
Jaconiah, furnished material sufficiently impersonal for her purpose. The 
reading finished, she put the Bible back on the shelf, took a candle, and 
disappeared into the little bedroom. 

As the door closed behind her, Miss Hetty, wretched but firm, took the 
Bible again from its place, skimmed down a chapter, wholly unmindful of 
the meaning, put the book away, locked the outside door, and followed her 
sister. In the bedroom all was quiet. The light had been blown out, but 
the faint rays of the moon shining into the chamber revealed Miss Orthy 
lying on the farthest edge of the bed, with her face turned toward the wall. 
Miss Hetty undressed slowly, and lay down on the front edge of the bed. 
Neither stirred. How long they lay there she did not know ; it seemed 
hours. She heard wheels pass the house and stop just beyond. Then there 


was a sound of men's voices, followed by a loud pounding on the door and a 
cry of "Fire !" 

Miss Hetty was on her feet in an instant, and throwing a coverlid about 
her shoulders, ran to the door. 

" Who's there?" she called, her voice trembling with excitement. 

"Me — Biggins! The house's afire ! Open the door, can't you?" came 
impatiently from the man on the steps. 

While Miss Hetty was hesitating between the Scylla of propriety on 
the one hand, and the Charybdis of danger on the other, Miss Orthy stalked 
into the entryway, unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and said, calmly, 
" What is the trouble, Mr. Biggins?" 

"Trouble!" repeated the exasperated butcher, " O, nothin', only the 
roofs all afire, the well's too far away to bring water, an' if you want to 
get out alive an' save any of your things, you'd better get into some duds 
an' be hustlin' ! " 

Without waiting for further invitation he threw open the door, pushed 
by the two women into the little parlor, and summoning his companion, fell 
to work right valiantly to save the humble but cherished belongings of " the 
Parson's Twins." 

For a minute the sisters stood dazed and helpless ; but as a realization 
of the situation dawned upon them, their scattered wits returned, and hastily 
dressing, they were soon "hustlin"' in a way to satisfy even the alert Mr. 
Biggins, who directed his little force with the skill of a veteran general, so 
that by the time the interior of the cottage was too hot for safety, nearly 
everything of value had been taken out and set down by the roadside. As 
Miss Orthy and Miss Hetty left the door for the last time, carrying each an 
armful of tins, they looked back down the passageway. The lamb still lay 
in its paper wrapping in the center of the kitchen table. 

" Must have caught from the chimney," volunteered the butcher, as he 
wiped the perspiration from his face with a dishtowel that was hanging on a 
corner of the parlor whatnot. "Well, we saved most everything. Mighty 
lucky for you that Jim Turner's boss took sick, or I shouldn't have been 
ridin' down this road at one o'clock at night, Miss Hetty ! Now, the best 
thing you can do is to go right up home with me. My wife'll give you a 
shakedown for the night, and be glad to. Then in the morning I'll bring 


you back, an' we'll kinder straighten things out. They'll be safe enough. 
There won't be nobody along this road before breakfast, I'll warrant." 

But the sisters would not go ; and side by side on the black haircloth- 
covered sofa, whose carven legs had been carefully dusted by Miss Orthy 
every morning for more than fifty years, they sat in silence and watched the 
devouring flames, until nothing was left of the little brown cottage but a 
heap of black, smoking brands. Then they went home with Mr. Biggins. 

There was great excitement the next morning when it became known to 
the villagers that Miss Orthy and Miss Hetty had been "burned out," and 
hospitable doors opened with offers of shelter until definite plans could be 
made for their future. 

It was after five o'clock. Since early morning the sisters had been busy 
among their household gods. Storage room had been provided, and friendly 
neighbors were carrying their possessions to the village. Throughout the 
day only the most necessary words had passed between Miss Orthy and Miss 

The last load was gone, followed by a few lingering stragglers from the 
bands of sightseers who had haunted the spot all day. The sisters were 
alone. They sat down on the edge of the stone wall near the road. Miss 
Hetty, pale and weary, now the excitement was over, was the first to speak. 

"Well, we've got a good deal to be thankful for, after all. If it hadn't 
been for Biggins we might have been burned in our beds ; and you saved 
that pink and green cup of Aunt Ann's, and the quilt she pieced up for you, 
didn't you?" 

"Yes," said Orthy, tremulous under the nervous reaction ; "I'm dread- 
fully sorry your quilt in the trunk in the attic got burned ; but, Hetty, — " 
here she hesitated, then nerved herself to go on, — " I guess — I guess there 
isn't any doubt but what that — that lamb was roasted ! " 

"O Orthy!" cried Miss Hetty, weakly; and in another instant they 
were in each other's arms, weeping tears of mingled joy and sorrow. 

"Wasn't it dreadful?" sobbed Miss Hetty; and Miss Orthy gave a 
choking assent. Each knew the other did not mean the fire. 

At last they loosened their arms and looked at each other. Miss Hetty 
giggled hysterically, and Miss Orthy found herself doing the same thing, 
she knew not why. Then they grew quieter, and after a little, Miss Hetty 


rose from the wall and went over to the ruin. Picking up a stick, she began 
poking the ashes with it. 

"What are you looking for ?" demanded Miss Orthy, who still kept 
her seat. 

"My roast lamb," said Miss Hetty, audaciously. Her sister laughed. 

" Come, child, we mustn't make Mrs. Biggins wait supper for us." 
She held out her hand ; Hetty put hers into it, and they turned away to- 
gether. Just then a thin cloud bank parted in the western sky, and the 
light of the sinking sun rested in benediction on the peaceful faces of the 
gray-haired sisters, as, hand in hand, they went down the rough "Shore 
Road " toward the village, and vanished round the bend. 

Mary Jenks Page, '88. 


A bright star looked with its wondering eye, 
The wind was holding its breath near by, 
For the Cloud that came up over the hill 
Had said, "O whispering Wind, be still! 
Be still, and cease awhile your sighing, 
The Tear is dying." 

The Cloud has risen and filled the sky, 
And behind it the star with the wondering eye 
Is hiding its grief, and the wind below 
Is breathing again with a sob of woe. 
'O Wind, sigh now," the Cloud had said; 
"The Year is dead." 

S. C. W., '95. 


Like beauty of brown lashes softly curled ; 
Like summer sadness known at eventide; 
Like children's tears at being comforted; 
Like youthful sorrow past since love began. 

Coming exams, cast their shadows before. 



The morning sun shone brightly down on the Italian landscape as little 
Vittoria tripped along the dusty highway. She was very gay, and often a little 
song rose to her lips, and was only silenced by the happy thoughts which swelled 
in her heart and made it beat so fast that she must needs be silent and blush. 

But neither the song nor the blush made her loiter ; for was she not even 
now on the way to Rome, to see her own Pasquale, — Pasquale, whom she 
had slighted and sent away? But it was all right now. She should tell 
him that he was forgiven, and that she was sorry, and — and — oh, so much 
more ! And to-morrow she should be coming back again over the same 
road, but not alone. And she blushed again, and walked a little faster. 
She smiled to herself to think of Pasquale's surprise when he should see her. 
He was always so grateful for any kindness of hers. Alas ! she sighed 
faintly to think how few these favors had been ; but her heart was light, for 
she knew that now she should make him happy. 

In the old days, two long months before, she had scorned him as a 
lover, scoffed at him, and said he was awkward. She had laughed at his 
wooing, and told him that a man who was shy enough to stammer in his 
love-making would never be brave enough to face a cannon ; and that she, 
with a toss of her head, would never marry a coward. True, she had not 
meant him to take her at her word ; but Pasquale was always serious, and 
he had turned white at her taunts, and gone away without a word. She 
believed he would come back next day ; but a week passed, and then she 
heard he had gone to Rome. There were rumors of an uprising under 
Garibaldi, and he had joined the papal troops. That night she cried herself 
to sleep, and visions of Pasquale's pleading eyes haunted her. When she 
would have written, pride held her back ; until, as the weeks dragged on, 
bringing no message, little Vittoria grew thin and sad eyed. By day she 
watched for some word of him ; by night she composed plaintive notes which 
were never sent, for she could not tell her love in that way. Pasquale would 
never know the depth of her devotion till he could read it in her eyes. 

Then the news had come that Garibaldi was advancing from the other 
side of Rome, that war was imminent, and Vittoria knew that the time for 
action had come. She would go for Pasquale. He had run into this danger 


for her sake, and she must save him. Nothing was simpler. She had said, 
" Go, Pasquale," and he had gone; now she would say, " Come," and to- 
morrow they would be walking home, between the vine-clad hills, hand in 
hand. Wherefore her heart was light. 

The sun rose higher in the blue heavens, and the way was very dusty ; 
but Vittoria kept a brave heart, and if her snatches of song grew less fre- 
quent, it was not from lack of courage. At noon she sat by the roadside, 
under a wide-branching olive tree, and ate her lunch of black bread and fruit, 
but she did not rest long. The miles seemed to melt away beneath her 
steady peasant's gait ; and before she dared expect it, Koine itself, bright, 
glittering, beautiful, was spread before her. Then she stopped at a little 
stream of clear water and cooled her hot face — now rosier than ever at the 
prospect of seeing her lover. When she was satisfied with the reflection in 
the still water, she hastened on and was soon within the walls. Although a 
strict guard had been ordered, she had no difficulty in entering the gate, for 
rumors of an attack at the Porta San Paolo, on the other side of the city, had 
called thither all the soldiers ; and for the time even the streets were 
deserted. All was so quiet that Vittoria trudged on unmolested. She had 
been in Eome before, on market day, and she knew the situation of the 
barracks where she must look for Pasquale. Perhaps she wondered vaguely 
as to the emptiness of the streets, but she was too tired to think, and the 
way seemed very long. 

Suddenly as she turned a corner, she came upon a crowd of soldiers 
hurrying to the scene of conflict with loud cries of "Vive Pio Nono !" "Vive 
LTtalia ! " but they were too occupied to notice her, and she followed them 
swiftly, feeling with an odd sinking at her heart that they would take her to 
Pasquale. On she hurried, stumbling often in her effort to keep up, until 
she saw in the distance Ions; lines of soldiers waiting for the word of 
advance. As she came up with them the line started at double quick. 
Eagerly she scanned each face. Once she thought she saw him, but as she 
stepped forward and the file swung past she saw her error. She was turning 
away in despair, for the flash of the bright uniforms blinded her, when far 
down the line she saw a face she could not mistake. He was coming, "Pas- 
quale ! " and she ran forward to meet him. He had seen her ; he was waving 
his hand. 


Just then occurred that explosion which made Rome tremble to its 
foundations. A dreadful spasm shook the earth ; the line of soldiers stopped, 
paralyzed with terror ; the ground opened beneath their feet ; a mighty 
rumble was in the air; but above all the roar and the crash, the shriek of a 
woman rang out, " Come, Pasquale." 

Helen M. Kelsey, '95. 


It was one of those days in the latter part of October, when Nature 
lets fall over her glory of red and yellow a soft veil of mist. There was 
even a suspicion of frost in the air, and men rubbed their hands together and 
prophesied an early winter. The last summer wanderers were hastening 
home, and the hotels and cottages among the White Mountains, with their 
suggestively gay coloring, looked lonely and deserted. 

The train coming down from Montreal was by no means crowded. The 
excursions had taken most of the pleasure seekers, and there were left here 
only a few prosaic business men and a woman or two, who were enjoying the 
changing scenery with that placidity which inexperienced travelers cannot 
seem to attain. Near the back of a car two men sat, talking in an interested 
way : one a minister, you would say at first glance ; the other, a — it was 
not so easy to decide about him. The smooth face was not so young as it 
looked at first. The lines about the mouth were not those of inexperience, 
and yet, the careless way in which one heavy lock of dark hair fell across 
the forehead, the impetuous movement with which it was thrust back at ex- 
citing stages in the conversation, the peculiar dimple in the very middle of 
the chin, and, most of all, the light in the blue eyes, were almost boyish. 

" I tell you, it is not Christlike to look on every man who comes to you 
as a wolf in sheep's clothing, even if this particular sheepskin be a beggar's 
coat. Turn a man away from your door and tell him to starve while you 
report him to the Associated Charities, and they take time to look him up ! 
Why " 

" But, my dear Jefferson, you are going to extremes. I don't want any 
starving beggars sitting on my doorsteps while that process of investigation 
goes on. Feed one, feed all; and your 'all' will be a pretty long train 
when the corporation once gets wind of the extent of your generosity. But, 


I say, this childlike trust of yours is bad — bad for you and bad for the beg- 
gars. In nine cases out of ten they have no sense of gratitude, and no con- 
ception of the true usefulness of money if they get hold of some. Look at 
that man who ' wanted work,' the bookbinder, who came to you last winter. 
What became of the annotated book that you gave him to rebind, of your 
dollar, and of your man ? By Jove ! here's a case for you now ! Look at 
that girl down front ! " 

Jefferson looked with his kindly, pitying eyes, and saw in the front of 
the car a girl who had but recently come in. You would hardly dare to 
call her young. If her years were not many, experience had filled up the 
measure, and she was already old. With her were several children, poor, 
starved-looking little things, whose bare, blue feet dangled pathetically 
from the seat. The girl herself — well, she had on shoes, or what had once 
been shoes, but you could look through them in places and see her feet, too. 
Jefferson watched the group uneasily for a while, but sat still under the 
amused eye of his friend, until a weak, pinched little wail came to his ears, 
" I want suthin'" — before a hand was clapped sharply over the child's mouth. 
"They're hungry!" he exclaimed, reproachfully, as he started down the 

It did not take long for the practiced tact of the minister to get at the 
girl's story, — the same old story that he had heard so many times. Poor? 
Yes, not a cent. The tickets for Boston had been given, to get them out of 
the way. Relatives? There was an older brother in Boston, who had gone 
there some time ago. He did not know they were coming, but she had his 
address. At the next station Jefferson got off and brought them back 
something to eat. This he offered with as much delicacy as if the poor girl 
had been some lady of his acquaintance. 

When Jefferson returned to his place, his friend said, " Let me experi- 
ment a little now." So he went and sat down among the children, and 
talked to them for a time. As he left, he said, " May I leave a little some- 
thing for the children?" and slipped a quarter into the girl's hand. She 
made no answer, but looked at the children's bare feet, then out of the 

Soon a boy came through the train with novels, — " Cruel as the Grave," 
" A Beautiful Fiend," — in all, an armful of traffic trash. He left a book in 


each seat as he passed, and the girl picked up the detective story which had 
fallen to her lot. Looking into it, she began on the first page and slowly 
spelled along. Even so early in the story the excitement rose to a critical 
pitch. Would the hero dare to do it? She was still in doubt when the boy 
came back for his book. It was such a handsome hero — black hair and 
blazing eyes. The children had just had a good dinner. She herself was 
not a bit hungry. If he should be wounded when he tried it, would the 
heroine — O, she must know how it came out ! She glanced round. The 
men were gone. Her fingers slowly unclosed, and the moist quarter dropped 
into the boy's hand. Forgetful of self, of the bare toes, of the coming 
winter, of everything but her interest in the black-eyed hero, she settled 
back in her corner with a sigh, and lost herself in the book. 

" Well, what do you think now?" Jefferson's friend asked on the back 
platform of the car, where they had watched the little scene. 

" It is not a fair test. It proves nothing," Jefferson replied. 

Grace M. Dennison, '97. 


She was a queen, and knight and troubadour 

Laid at her fair young feet their praise and song, 
Till all that mighty land whose crown she wore 

Echoed her loveliness. The idle throng 
To-day scarce see her tomb. The good or wrong 

Linked with her name they know not ; but still, where 
The Provence hamlets rise, her songs along 

The vintage slopes make sweet her native air, 

And live in peasant hearts. Behold her kingdom there! 

Helen Pearson Makgesson, '96. 


The rhythmic pulsing of the chord we love, 
The subtle cadence of the poet's song, 
Cares that attend the power for which we long, 

The moral law which leads from earth above. 



The feast is done ; the merry voices of the revelers become hushed ; the 
senses thrill with pleasure as the play of Twelfth Night is begun, announced 
by soft and lingering strains of music. The melody stirs the gentler 
passions, — 

" That strain again! it had a dying fall; 
Oh, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing and giving odor! " 

But it rouses also a spirit of unrest, — 

"Enough; no more: 
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before." 

The words of the duke blend with the music, and though the strain 
itself dies away, the memory of it lingers, and is heard through the play as 
the orchestral accompaniment is heard supporting the solo instruments, and 
giving to them their themes. 

The 'cello tones of the duke are followed by the heroine's pure, sweet 
violin notes ; and then, with a quickening of the time, a new theme is intro- 
duced by the noisy horn (Sir Toby), the thin oboe tones of Sir Andrew, 
and Maria's laughing cymbal notes — this time a merry theme, with no trace 
of pain or passion. In turn, the second violin echoes the love-theme, as 
Olivia says : — 

"Methinks I feel this youth's perfections, 
With an invisible and subtle stealth, 
To creep in at mine eyes." 

And now and again comes Malvolio's flageolet voice, with its discordant 
notes, and the soft, sweet, flute-like voice, the " mellifluous voice " of Feste, 
which has a merry rhythm, but, withal, a tone of sadness. 

"O mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
O stay and hear ; your true love' s coming 

That can sing both high and low. 
Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; 
Journeys end in lovers' meeting, 

Every wise man's son doth know. 


What is love? 'tis not hereafter; 
Present mirth hath present laughter, 

What's to come is still unsure. 
In delay there lies no plenty ; 
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty ; 

Youth's a stuff will not endure." 

The note of "present mirth" given by the flute waxes stronger and 
stronger ; the horn, the oboe and the flute chase each other in quick succession 
until the merriment of the catch almost drowns the remembered strains of love. 
But now the orchestra ao-ain sounds the theme of romance with so much 
strength and passion that the solo instruments cannot leave it. First, the 
'cello softly breathes, — 

" If ever thou shalt love, 
In the sweet pangs of it remember me." 

" Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart." 

The flute voice of Feste sings with the melody : — 

" Come aw r ay, come away, death, 

And in sad cypress let me be laid. 
Fly away, fly away, breath ; 
I am slain by a fair, cruel maid. 
" My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 
O prepare it ! 
My part of death, no one so true 
Did share it. 

" Not a flower, not a flower sweet 

On my black coffin let there be strown ; 
Not a friend, not a friend greet 

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : 
" A thousand thousand sighs to save, 
Lay me, O, where 
Sad, true lover never find my grave 
To weep there." 

The song is 


. . . . " old and plain; 
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun 

Do use to chant it; " 

1 It gives a very echo to the seat 
Where love is thron'd." 


And now the violin comes under its spell, and Viola confesses her love. 

"My father had a daughter lov'd a man." 
Her history ? 

" A blank, my lord. She never told her love. . . . 
She sat like Patience on a monument, 
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed ?" 

The strain suddenly breaks, and the harmony becomes more involved. 
The violin blends with the horn and the oboe, the base notes of Sebastian 
enter and mingle with the others, and the cracked flageolet and merry 
cymbals carry all on in a crash of sound ; confused discord reigns. The 
love theme grows fainter and fainter, until at length the deep base tones of 
Sebastian take it up. The discord resolves into sweet harmony. Again the 
instruments play together : the passion theme is heard without the pain ; 
the merry theme with all its merriment is there, and the plaintive yet sooth- 
ing song of the flute breathes through all. 

The music dies. It is only the echo of the love theme that we hear. 

And now the flute voice sings again ; and the song is a story of life. 

" When that I was and a little tiny boy, 
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
A foolish thing was but a toy. 
For the rain it raineth every day. 

But when I came to man's estate, 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, 

For the rain it raineth every day. 

But when I came, alas ! to wive, 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
By swaggering could I never thrive, 

For the rain it raineth every day. 

But when I came unto my bed, 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 
With toss-pots still had drunken head, 

For the rain it raineth every day. 

A great while ago the world begun, 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain; — 
But that's all one, our play is done, 

And we'll strive to please you every day." 

Winifred Augsbury, '95. 



One windy November afternoon I stood idly watching the reflection 
of the bare, gray trees in the tiny pond, out of sorts with myself, and even 
with Nature. Suddenly I was startled by a rushing and pattering, as of 
many little feet, and turned to see a host of ragged, brown waifs come 
tumbling, pushing, crowding across the walk, and down the slight incline. 
For a moment they paused ; then with one last, wild leap they were lost in 
the leaden water ! The tragedy was quite in keeping with my mood, and I 
walked on, smiling grimly, though the victims of this headlong haste were 
only the dry, dead leaves. 


Brave Arria, those noble words of thine 
Have rung through all the centuries gone by, 
Till even now their tones almost divine 
Bring the whole scene before the "inward eye." 
We see thee strike without a hint of fear; 
We see thy heart's red blood leap forth and stain 
Thy robes: the dagger to thy husband dear 
We see thee give; then hear thee speak again, 
"O Paete," and the brave, proud lips confess, 
Though quivering, no pain, permit no moan. 
"O Paete," e'en the tone is a caress, 
As tenderly they whisper, "Dolet non." 

What wonder thou shouldst dread to take thy life, 

O Paetus, loth to leave so true a wife. 

Mary Grace Caldwell, '95. 


It was a bright day in July. The wind swept around the ship houses 
of the Portsmouth Navy Yard, and sent cadet Roger Tilton's cap dancing 
down the walk, as he made his way from the Kearsarge to the officers' quar- 
ters. Lazily he walked after it, swinging his long arms, and glancing 
around to see if anyone were near enough to smile. But another puff of 
wind sent it down toward the water, onto a raft, and then into the water 
itself. Vexed and frowning he began to pick his way among the shiny 
stones, when he heard a well-known laugh, and making a trumpet of his 
hands called out, " Hallo there, Boots !" 


He waited, and soon a little girl came flying around the corner of the 
ship house, right past him, and then stopped abruptly. " Where are you, 
Mr. Roger? You're hiding, I know you are !" But spying him sitting on 
the edge of the wharf, she ran up with a cry of surprise, and flung herself, 
panting, beside him. She was about ten years old; her hat was ofF, and 
her brown, short hair had fallen from its comb all over her face. Some 
muddy pieces of braid were hanging below the short skirts ; her stocking 
seams made spiral curves up her legs, which were so small, and such a con- 
trast to the large shoes at the end (like a hyphen, joining feet and body), 
that Roger had christened her " Boots." And so she sat by him, laughing 
in little breathless gasps, snapping her brown eyes up into his face, spread- 
ing out her hands, all covered with mud and wheel grease, looking so full of 
good nature, pluck, and fun that no one could have resisted her. Her 
companion, at least, could not, for these two were great friends. He liked 
all children, and all children liked him. He had a gentle way of talking to 
them, and listening gravely to what they said ; of drawing out their opinions, 
and making them feel full of consequence. He prided himself on this 
quality, and valued a child's friendship. But for Mary — that was her real 
name — he felt a great respect, and he talked to her about many serious 
things ; for a young cadet cruising on the coast grows a little tired, some- 
times, of dances, teas, and ladies ; he wants to think and talk of home. So 
Mary knew about his mother, and had seen a picture of his little sister, just 
her age. During his watches she would sit on the ship with him, and talk, 
in her bright, emphatic little way, hugging her knees with her arms, and 
beating- bugle calls on the deck with her heels. Often she told him that he 
was just the best cadet she ever saw ; that he didn't pull her hair, and call 
her monkey, and think himself smart, but was always so kind and jolly, 
and seemed sorry when she cried, or was angry, and always knew how to 
make her feel right again. At dusk they would sometimes walk together 
to Lover's Island, and climb upon the reservoir to watch the sun set ; for 
they both thought that the many little islands, each in its setting of blue, 
with bridges joining them, and clusters of gravestones showing out white 
on the prominent points, the whole gilded by the setting sun, were as 
beautiful as anything could be. It was then that Mary said Portsmouth 
looked like heaven shining out of the clouds. 


" Boots," Roger began, " will you fetch my hat for me? See it in the 
water, caught under that rudder. I'm too big and awkward to get there." 

Mary jumped down on a little steam launch, and bending far over the 
side, fished out the dripping cap with a stick, and wiping off the water with 
her dress, put it laughingly on the side of Soger's head. 

"Oh, you look just like Mr. Kent!" she exclaimed. "I asked him 
why he wore his cap on the side, and he said, 'Because the ladies like it,'" 
with a cock of her head and a simpering smile. Then, with a grand sweep 
of her hand. " He's silly ; I don't like him." 

Roger, slowly rising, took Mary's hand, and they walked together 
toward the quarters. "I suppose you have something that you are going 
to make me do," he said. "Where are you taking me?" 

"I'm taking you to the bicycle. I want you to hold me on, please, 
Mr. Roger. I go a little way, and then I fall off, so I'm bruised all over, 
and there's no place left to be bruised in." 

"I'm afraid those young ladies on the porch up there would laugh at 
us, Boots, and we can't stand that, can we? Let's take a stroll, instend. 
I want to ask your opinion on a few matters, your unreserved opinion — 
which, I must say, you usually give," he added with a smile at the little girl 
now walking beside him. He was a tall man, with large hands and feet, 
slightly drooping shoulders, and a rolling, sailor walk. His face was 
handsome and gentle looking, with a little unobjectionable expression of 
confidence in his power of pleasing. He was one of those boys whom 
mothers feel drawn to, instinctively knowing them to have sweet mothers 
at home. 

They walked over the bridge on the Island toward a cluster of pines 
near the water. 

"You remember the young lady staying with the Gibsons," began 
Roger ; " what do you think of her ? " 

" I don't like her face, it's all drawn down so," and Mary drew down 
the corners of her mouth. 

" Well, I rather liked it myself. A little sad, perhaps. Are you ever 
lonely, Boots?" 

" O no, sir, never, because when I would be I come to you ;" and she 
smiled brightly up at him. 


" I think she's lonely, and so I've been to see her quite often. She has 
no father or mother. How would you like to have no father or mother?" 

" It would be awful ! " said Mary, with much emphasis. 

" I agree with you," he added, earnestly. " I would be lonely at times 
if it were not for this warm little hand clino-insf to mine. Ah, there o-oes 
sundown. Hats off, old comrade;" and they both laughingly jerked off* 
their caps and stood facing the west, watching the Navy Yard flag creep 
down the pole, and whistling the sundown call. 

"There's heaven !" cried Mary. "Isn't it pretty, Mr. Roger; isn't it 
just like heaven, with the spires all shining and the water all gold? When 
I say rn} r prayers I think of that for heaven, and almost see God shining out 
of the clouds." And she stood still on the walk, and with a rapt smile 
gazed out over the water at Portsmouth, softened into a shadow} 7 city by 
the evening dusk. He came beside her and stood so still that his companion, 
looking in his face, asked, " What makes you so grave, Mr. Roger? 
You haven't said anything at all funny to-day." 

"Haven't I? Well, let me see. May I hope to see you at the ball 
to-night ? " and with a mock bow he picked a yellow daisy and stuck it in 
her dress. " Will mam'selle give me a dance?" 

She laughed gayly, "Yes, I'll give you a dance ; but I can only stay 
half an hour." 

" Onty half an hour ! Ah, pity this poor heart of mine ;" and he began 
beating his breast and rolling up his e} r es, while Mary danced up and down, 
overcome with laughter and delight. 

And so they walked home, laughing and chatting, and parted by the 
large anchors with much ceremony and many sweeping bows. 

The old " Constitution " was to be the scene of the dance. Her door — 
for since a roof has been built over her she is entered by a door, like a floating 
ark with masts — was draped in flags, and a marine paced on the shore in 
front of it, as much for ornament as to usher in the comers. Judging by 
his looks, he felt all ornament. Inside, flags entirely covered the walls, and 
were festooned around gangways and brass railings. A small platform had 
been built in the center, on which the band played while couples dauced on 
the crowded floor; officers and cadets in uniform, and their partuers in all 
sorts of cuts and colors — all surrounded by the glaring red, white, and blue 
on the walls. 


Mary, happy in a white muslin with pink ribbons, pushed her way in 
and out of the crowd, looking for her old friend. She was met at every 
turn with greetings such as, "Why, Mary, what a pretty dress," or 
" Please, Mam'selle, give me a dance ;" for she was a great favorite with the 
cadets, and they enjoyed teasing her and making her eyes flash. But she 
paid little attention besides giving an angry glance or two. She wanted to 
find Roger first of all, and have her dance with him. She hunted long, and 
then, tired and disappointed, had made up her mind to go home, when, 
under the gilt motto, "Don't Give Up the Ship," where the flags were 
draped with a great show of brilliant red coloring, she saw him sitting with 
a young girl. Quickly she ran up, and resting her elbows on his knee, put 
her hot cheek against his shoulder. 

" I've been looking for you all over," she said, with her eyes shining; 
" you promised to dance with me, and I didn't think you would forget." 

" Why, you didn't think that I had forgotten, did you? " he said, gently 
wiping the moist little face and facing her around between his knees. " Now 
which shall it be, old comrade, — shall we go and dance in that hot crowd and 
leave this young lady all alone, or shall we sit here in this cool spot and talk 
to her, and tell her what fun we have together ? Which shall it be ? " 

Mary would rather have danced, but she felt, by the pleading way he 
looked at her and held her hand, that he wished to stay. 

" I'll stay," she answered, simply. Gayly he lifted her on his knee and 
turned her toward his companion. 

" This is Boots," he said, " inimitable Boots. We are great friends, 
aren't we, little girl? We take long walks together, and talk about the 
people we know. We talked about you, yesterday, and she said she didn't 
like your mouth, because it was all drawn down. You know you did, you 
naughty Boots." He shook his finger at her and laughed rather exci- 

" Yes, I said so," said Mary ; " but he said you were lonely, and so I 
pitied you. And anyway, it isn't drawn down a bit to-night." 

" Isn't it," answered the young girl with a smile. " I don't think it 
will ever be again, for I'm going to join you in your walks, and you both 
will make me laugh, so that I won't have a chance to draw my mouth down ;" 
and she smiled softly over Mary's head at Roger. 


" Yes," he went on, hastily, bending his head down and speaking very 
low ; "I'm going to tell you a secret, because I know you are a noble little 
girl, and because I tell my little sweetheart all things that make me happy. 
I am going to marry this young lady in a few years. Her name is Elsie. 
Tell her that she shall be your friend, too, and kiss her good night ; then I'll 
walk home with you." 

" Good night, Miss Elsie," said Mary, doing as she was bid. 

" Good night, little Boots," returned Elsie, blushing and embarrassed. 

Eoger took Mary's hand and piloted her through the crowd, out of the 
door, and down the steps and swaying plank to the ground ; then they 
walked home, he taking such long, quick steps that she had to make little 
skips to keep up with him. When they came to the front door he shook 
her little hand many times, and said that he and Miss Elsie would expect 
her on the morrow's walk. He told her that she looked very tired, and that 
she must sleep hard, so as to be bright and jolly to-morrow, and make Miss 
Elsie laugh. Then he strode quickly back to the ship. 

Tired little Mary stumbled slowly up stairs, stepping on the pink 
ribbons and making them drag on the floor. She was quite breathless keep- 
ing up with Roger, and the hand which he had held was red and sore from 
his unconsciously tight hold. She had bravely tried to keep from crying 
all the way home, but now her chest began to heave. She threw herself on 
the bed and began to cry as if her heart would break. " He didn't dance 
with me at all," she sobbed, kicking the footboard with all her might and 
throwing her comb out of her hair. "I don't want anybody else to walk 
with us ; I hate that old young lady at the Gibson's ; I won't make her 
laugh, and I know he won't come with me ever again ; and he's mine, my own 
Mr. Roger." Then, tired with crying, with her dress all crushed and her face 
burning, she slipped from the bed. She glanced hastily around, to be sure 
that no one could possibly see, then knelt down, and with her hands clasped 
tightly together and the bridge of her nose pressed hard against the edge 
of a chair, prayed aloud : — 

"Dear God, please forgive me for being angry and crying; and please 
send here another Mr. Tilton just like my Mr. Roger, with gray eyes and 
curly hair, and — and — a lovely smile ; and let him marry — me" 

Dorothy Allen. 



The end is assured from the beginning ; and the three long weeks of 
vacation, which stretched before with such delightful promise when we took 
the home-bound train from Wellesley, have passed to the resting place of 
days and weeks and years. 

We flattered ourselves when we turned our faces from college for these 
few weeks, that straightway we should forget college work and ways, and 
give our thoughts to the world's doings. Our anticipations were fated. 
There was something in the added respect tendered by the youthful brother, 
in the fond parental admiration, and in the proud title, "My sister from Wel- 
lesley," that bound us to our Alma Mater as surely as the books we had so 
cheerfully consigned to oblivion. It may have been a matter of surprise 
that, instead of eager inquiry into the world's transactions, we found our- 
selves displaying views of the College, explaining the jokes in the " Legenda," 
and unfolding to the view of appreciative friends the pages of the Magazine, 
which is supported by the voluntary contributions of the students. 

It takes a vacation to teach a Wellesley girl how justly proud she is of 
the College she represents, how close her interests are to its interests ; and 
the close of a vacation opening on the New Year brings back each loyal- 
hearted student with a desire to do her part in making the year one of 
advance for the college whose color she wears. 


In the Harvard Graduate's Magazine for December, seven or eight 
pages were filled with a most interesting report of the present academic and 
social condition of Eadclifle College, written by Mary Coes, who, at a late 
meeting of the Associates, was chosen to represent the graduates for a period 
of two years. 

A few of the points of greatest interest we present here for the benefit of 
those who may not see the magazine in which the report appeared. 

During the year 1893-94, there were two hundred and fifty-five students, 
while this year there are two hundred and seventy-five, who are taking 


courses under seventy-two professors, instructors, and assistants. Of this 
number twenty-six are graduates of other colleges. About one hundred of 
the students board in Cambridge. 

The minimum fee charged for any student is forty dollars, and the max- 
imum fee, in addition to the special laboratory fees, is two hundred dollars, 
covering any number of courses. 

A statement of receipts for tuition fees and expenditures, for salaries 
and other current expenses, shows that the income from the former source 
has been sufficient to meet all the expenses without recourse to the interest 
on the invested funds of the college. The report of the treasurer shows that 
at the end of the fiscal year, July 31, 1894, the endowment fund of Eadclifie 
College amounted in round figures to about $155,000. Since July 31, the college 
has received three gifts of $5,000 each, one of $75,000, and another of $20,000. 

These statements, as well as others which we cannot quote here because 
of their length, certainly support the remark with which the report opens, 
that Radclifle College begins work this year under favorable conditions. 


Ignorance in regard to the vital questions of the day is not willful on 
the part of Wellesley students ; but spare moments are few, and enticements 
to outside pleasures many. How could the time and the means be found for 
widening our intelligence of the life about us, without infringing upon the 
brief recreation hours? 

The departments of Literature and History have generously come to our 
aid. They have arranged an attractive course of lectures on current topics, 
to be given by men and women famous in either a literary or socialistic way. 
The last hour of Saturday afternoon is set aside for this purpose. The eager 
girls who throng the chapel at this time, their deep attention and their appre- 
ciative comments, testify to the gratitude with which this kindness is received, 
and to the great need which it has met. The life of to-day, as well as that of 
years gone by, is of interest, ever increasing as our knowledge broadens and 

For their realization of one of Wellesley's difficult problems, and for 
their practical solution of it, let heartfelt thanks be tendered to our wise 



Is there a growing tendency toward modesty among us, or is it increas- 
ing pride? Are we ashamed to own the offspring of our brains because we 
are unworthy of them, or because they are unworthy of us ? Such questions 
perplex the editorial mind as unsigned articles pile upon the table of the 
Board, or as fabulous initials are at last discovered. 

The responsibility for our productions should not be imposed upon our 
class, much less ruthlessly thrown upon the entire College. Think not that 
we are pampering to an idle curiosity in this matter. Work can be more 
fairly gauged if its writer be known. No one would expect as much from a 
writer with but one year of college training as from one with four. If we 
shrink from criticism, perhaps we evade help of a most practical kind. Who 
of us have not wished to see ourselves as others see us ? But now that it has 
become possible, we timidly reject the offered opportunity. 


"Does the Wellesley student in the last year of her college course 
really need a Senior vacation?" is a question that ought to be seriously 
considered and agitated. Perhaps one question can be best answered by 
another. Is the mere acquisition of knowledge the only or the most valua- 
ble thing that the Wellesley graduate takes away from college ? If educa- 
tion consisteth solely in the number of facts that a man or woman hath, then 
the Wellesley student ought to cast the thought of Senior vacation behind her 
back ; for, after four years' training, the number of facts that can be trans- 
ferred in two weeks from reference book to notebook, and from notebook 
to brain, is something incredible. If our degrees mean simply the ability to 
tabulate well, or to do "very creditable" argumentative work, then the 
sound of the grinding should not cease until we have gone out from the 
halls of our "College Beautiful." But if education is the ability to grasp 
the " meaning of facts," if it is better insight into life and its problems, finer 
sensibilities, keener appreciation of the beauties and deformities of life, then 
perhaps the last two weeks in college would not be wasted, even if instead 
of reading the " Congressional Records " or the Westminster Revieiv, we 


were to dream on the lake, talk with college friends, or visit our favorite 
Wellesley haunts. If we have Senior vacation, we may forget in what year 
Charlemagne was crowned emperor, but our last impressions of those two 
weeks would be lasting, either by contrast or by harmony with our previous 
Wellesley experience. If we have been one of the unfortunates who have 
always been hurried, those last weeks would be like " a peace out of pain." 
If we have been among the fortunate few who are always masters of their 
time, we would have a delightful close to a delightful course. 

It is no new thing for which we plead. Amherst had a Senior vacation 
thirty years ago, and now has one of a week's duration. At Smith the 
members of the graduating class have no examinations after February. 
Vassar, in 1886, at least, had a Senior vacation. At Dartmouth the 
Seniors are excused from chapel a few days previous to Commencement. 
At Wesley an University the members of the graduating class, with the 
exception of those who have elected courses not strictly Senior, are through 
their examinations two weeks before Commencement. If you are saying that 
in the colleges cited, the vacation is given in order that the Commencement 
speakers may have time to prepare their parts, let me remind you that 
the large majority of the class do not have parts. Besides, if these col- 
leges that have had the Senior vacation system for years, felt it to be 
injurious to the larger part of the class, means would certainly have been 
devised to keep idle hands or brains busy. This is not a matter of interest 
to the present Senior class alone, for every class has its turn in being- 
Senior. A member of the Class of '94 took up the cause in a recent 
number of the Magazine. Can we not hear from the members of the 
different classes on this subject? 

B., '95. 

" This higher education for women is all well enough, but a girl ought 
to know something," was a remark made, so Charles Dudley Warner says 
in a recent Harper's, by a cultivated woman who was discussing the value 
of college education for women. This is rather a severe criticism. Can 
it be said that, after four years of intellectual work, a girl knows nothing, 
or, to express it less extremely, that she is ill informed on questions of the 
day, and deficient in general culture ? 


To be sure, a college girl has probably read fewer books than the girl who 
spends these four years in the society life of to-day, with its clubs and classes 
of all kinds. It is easier to read good books when reading is one's severest 
mental work than when it is one's rest and recreation. Yet even at Welles- 
ley we do read. The difficulty with which one secures the last magazine, 
and the avidity with which we borrow copies of " Trilby," " Marcella," and 
"The Manxman," not to mention "The Heavenly Twins," "The Yellow 
Aster," and " Ships that Pass in the Night," — I beg Miss Harraden's pardon 
for placing her in this category, — attest the diligence with which we attempt 
to keep up with current literature. I know, too, not a few girls who read 
in their leisure hours, Emerson, Browning, Matthew Arnold, and Ruskin, 
besides poetry old and new. Is it just to call us wholly deficient in culture? 

Perhaps we do not know so much as we might of questions of the 
day, but the daily perusal of the bulletin board — and most of us clo read, at 
least, so much — informs us that there are questions of the day, though we may 
be unacquainted with the details of any one of them. Still, ignorant as we 
are, I hardly think many Wellesley girls would ask, as I heard a not un- 
intelligent girl ask this summer, ' ' But don't the Sandwich Islands belong 
to the United States?" 

Besides what little general information a girl may acquire, she must 
learn something from four years' academic work. Mr. Warner complains 
that a college girl has merely a smattering of various subjects ; but is not 
a smatterino' better than total ignorance? And according to our curriculum, 
a graduate must have rather more than a smattering in two subjects. 

Since, then, college girls do know something, is there any ground for 
the remark quoted above? The same charge virtually has been made in 
so many different ways and by so many different people, friends as well as 
foes to the higher education, that one can hardly dismiss it as a baseless 
fabrication. Is not the fault, after all, not with our knowledge, but with 
our capacity for self-expression, as it has recently been phrased? It is but 
natural that we should be lacking in this respect. For four years we lead 
a life of isolation. We are thrown upon the companionship of our mental 
equals alone. That community of interest which makes college life so delight fill, 
tends, also, to confine our conversation pretty exclusively to gossipand " shop " ; 
we even have a jargon of our own, which is not easily intelligible to outsiders. 


It is not surprising, then, that when we leave college, we find ourselves 
unable to talk intelligently and interestingly. One can even see some 
justice in a comment like the foregoing. Yet when one of our most brilliant 
girls is considered hopelessly uninteresting by people of intelligence and 
culture, as actually occurred not long since, something must be pretty 
radically wrong. 

Is this one of the inevitable results of college life? If not, can we 
remedy it ourselves, or must it be done for us? If it rests with us, how 

shall we set about it? 

L. M., '96. 

It seems useless to require a busy Wellesley girl to hand in a notebook. 
But let it be understood from the beginning, that when the object is the study 
of tabulation, we recognize the benefit gained. In other cases, however, it 
means extra work, and work which appears unnecessary ; for she must often 
copy extracts from books which are always at hand, and to which she could 
go as easily as to her notebook. It means that she must write out in full 
what a word might be sufficient to suggest to her own mind if the notes were 

© Co 

for her own benefit merely. It means time which a girl would gladly spend 
in a dozen other ways, possibly in studying more deeply into the very subject 
for which she spends her time writing notes. But what does it mean to her 
teacher ? Does it represent what a girl is gaining from the course of study ? 
Not at all. Too often whole extracts are written down without being under- 
stood ; they are in the notebook, — no more is needful. Does it mean that a 
college girl cannot be trusted to learn for herself, without being obliged to 
display continually an outline of her knowledge ? If a college girl does not 
want to learn, it is useless to attempt to force her. Why not, then, if a girl 
recites intelligently, writes papers and examinations intelligently, trust to 
these real representations of her work, and let her notebook be personal 
property, — a use, and not a torment. 

Two Seniors. 


Although I fear it is rather late in the day, I desire to join with " '95 " 
in a protest against the wholesale denunciation of the college lunch system 
and college manners, which appeared in the November number of the 


Magazine. There is one alumna who "looks back," if not "with pride and 
complacency," at least with distinct pleasure to the "noontide meal." Never 
in the two and a half years of my life in College Hall did I see such an 
exhibition of discourtesy as is set forth in the article mentioned. A host of 
pleasant memories crowd upon me as I recall the ' ' lunch clubs " of my 
Freshman and Sophomore years, but I will not take time to write of them, 
for I wish to speak especially of the table at which I sat during the first term 
of my Junior year. I wonder if there is one of those girls who does not 
recall those luncheons with pleasure. To be sure, there was the inevitable 
array of hash, and pie, and gingerbread; but what of that? They were 
usually good. The girls took turns in coming down promptly to get enough 
bread, milk, etc., to begin the meal comfortably, and the first comer often 
poured the water, cut the butter, and performed numerous little services of 
the kind. Of course there were two or three who always did more than 
their share of the work, but I am not exaggerating when I say that many 
were the playful ' ' squabbles " at every lunch for the privilege (?) of going 
after needed supplies. I never saw one single girl help herself a second time 
to pie, sauce, or cake, without first looking to see if all were provided for. 
And besides all this, what good times we had ; what lengthy discussions and 
tremendous arguments on all possible subjects ! You may think I am over- 
drawing on the other side, but there are eight members of '94 who will, I am 
sure, indorse every word of this. 

My experience at Stone Hall during the two following terms was no less 
pleasant : lunch was always to me a delightful meal, and I trust that she who 
did so much to make that part of the day bright and restful for the students, 
never ' ' walked in with a ouest " to find such a fearful state of things as the 
unfortunate teacher to whom " E. E. B." alludes. 

I should have been glad to take any friends of mine to that Junior lunch 
table, or to the one at Stone Hall, that I might show them how thoughtful 
and helpful Wellesley girls were even in the midst of a busy day, and when 
freed from the restraints of a formal meal. It was admitted that things were 
better at the cottages, so I will not speak of my experiences there. 

One word further I want to add to my already lengthy communication. 
We are all proud of our Free Press. It is the place to speak openly, truth- 
fully, boldly, but is there no danger of our abusing our liberty? We 


Wellesley women know the college life so well that we can make all necessary 
allowances, and read between the lines, but our Magazine goes to half a 
hundred other colleges. To "E. E. B." all the unpleasant details she 
mentions seem " sadly true," while I can scarcely recognize it as a picture of 
Wellesley life at all. But to the members of the various Editorial Boards to 
whom the Magazine finds its way, this probably seems a simple statement of 
the universal custom prevailing at Wellesley, possibly at all women's colleges ! 
Is it just ? Do you think it fair, either to Alma Mater or to individual girls, 
that such an impression should be made on the minds of those who cannot 
judge from experience? 

Clarissa White Bexsox, '94. 

It seems incongruous, to say the least, that our friends who come to see 
us should pay more to ride to and from college than they do for an excursion 
ticket to Boston. At Vassar stages are run to all trains free of charge. We 
cannot yet hope for such an ideal state of affairs, but surely we might ask for 
a reduction of fare. The stage corporation would certainly not lose by the 
transaction, for many a girl who now walks, would ride if the price were 
merely the nominal sum charged in all our cities. I speak especially in 
behalf of those who live in the village. Twenty cents is more than any girl 
cares to pay day after day to ride during unpleasant weather. The con- 
sequence is she walks instead. In so doing she frequently endangers her 
health by bringing into recitation rooms wet skirts and boots, not to mention 
the discomfort which she causes to those around her. 

Since the students of the college are the supporters of the stage line, it 
is reasonable to suppose that their requests would be heeded if known. Is 
there not some way by which we can bring about, with the New Year, this 
much-needed change ? 


Aside from a general holiday tone, fine illustrations constitute the most 
noteworthy feature of the December magazines. In this respect the Elmira 
College Sibyl and the Bryn Mawr Lantern easily lead ; their cuts, although 
the work of students, being unusually well drawn. The Sibyl is noticeable 


also for the number of Christmas stories and poems it contains ; still the text, 
" Peace on Earth," has served so many writers this month, it is difficult to 
single out any one for special excellence. 

The college short story is making a distinct place for itself in current 
literature. The Wesleyan Literary Monthly presents an example of the really 
artistic work offered us nowadays by amateur authors, in " Which Was His 
Duty?" a Scotch story by Andrew Gillies. The Tragic " Clerical Coward- 
ice," in the Cornell Era, and " Though I Speak With the Tongues of Men 
and Angels," in the Red and Blue, are also especially well written. In somewhat 
lighter vein, but yet of more than average merit, " Carl," in the Brown Maga- 
zine, and ' 'A Woman of Impulse" in the Vassar Miscellany, may be mentioned. 

"A Psychological Mystery," in the Red and Blue, and "Imagination," 
in the Yale Courant, are but two more instances of the growing tendency 
toward that analytical study of the mind and its workings, which is becoming 
almost too common in all our periodicals. 

It is refreshing to turn from such gloomy conceits to a bright bit of 
nature sketching, entitled "Lilac Blossoms," by Cornelius Ketchel, in the 
Yale Courant. Writers in the Courant, indeed, often excel in delicate and 
sympathetic descriptions. 

Following "Lowell, the Poet," in the November Williams Lit . , a schol- 
arly paper on the "Reform Poetry of Lowell" appears in the Red and Blue 
for December. The Red and Blue also contains an appreciative criticism of 
the "Poetry of Poe." 

Of verse too long to quote, "A Vision," by Champlin Burrage, in the 
Brunonian, is perhaps the best. We take this fine "Fragment" from the 
Williams Literary Monthly: — 

Lost the sweet peace which calm forbearance finds ; 

Two harsh, contentious brothers ne'er agree, 

But are like branches of one sturdy tree, 
That lash each other madly in the winds. 

We also clip the following : — 


Seeking is what? 
Merely a step in the dark; 
The launch of an unstable bark 

On a mysterious sea. 



A quest for the ever unseen; 

A struggle to peer through the screen 

That hides what no mortal should see; 

Futile desires unexpressed; 
Yearnings and cravings for rest, — 
Rest from uncertainty. 


Along toward morning 

I heard the swallows call, 
With a rustle, and a flutter, 

And a twitter sweet and small; 
From the eaves and from the gutter, 

Darting downward, one and all. 
And I sighed to be a swallow, 
With untired wing to follow 

Through the April air, 
Over hill and nestled hollow, 

Brushing blossoms from the pear, — 
Along toward morning. 

—Cornell Era. 

-Vassar Miscellany. 


The sun sinks low, and all the sea around 
Is bathed in wondrous beauty by his light. 
The gentle waves give forth the only sound 
That breaks the silence of this coming night. 
The sun has gone, and dipped his golden rim 
Beneath the wave. Now darkness comes apace; 
A star peeps forth; while out the distance dim 
The sea fog floats, and in its still embrace 
Enwraps the wearied Earth, and veils her face. 

-Tale Courant. 


Though thronging myriads of flaming spheres 

Traverse the trackless azure fields of space; 
Though sense perceives no potent hand that steers 

The comet in its self-outstripping race; 
Though starting eyes see loosened stars descend, 

And tremblers fear earth's final day is done, — 
A mighty force compels each orb to bend 

Its course about some glowing central sun. 
The star that seems to fall, and fan its flame 

To self-destruction, follows where 'tis led; 
The headlong comet, heedless whence it came 

And whither going, by that power is sped. 
So Love Eternal silently controls 
And guides the great unrest of errant souls. 

— Wesley an Literary Monthly. 



An Introduction to the Study of English Fiction, by William Edward 
Simonds. D. C. Heath & Co. Cloth, $1.00. 

Within this small book lies much of intense interest, as well as of help- 
ful information. In a modest prefatory note the author disclaims all 
intention of writing an exhaustive, scientific treatise of English fiction. His 
aim is briefly, and concisely to outline its evolution, and "to indicate the 
successive epochs in its growth." This he has done with marked success. 
The laws of cause and effect are set before us so clearly, and in such a vivid, 
forceful style, that we follow with intelligent interest froru the stirring tales 
loved and sung by our Anglo-Saxon forefathers, to our present realistic 
novel, tinged with modern pessimism. The last half of the volume is de- 
voted to characteristic selections from the works of early and less accessible 
writers of fiction. This, in itself, with the carefully arranged historical 
tables and reference lists, would commend the book to all students and lovers 
of English literature. 

President Thwing, of the Western Reserve University, who has written 
upon various college questions, has just brought out a small volume entitled 
" The College Woman." The book is earnest, thoughtful, and thoroughly 
readable. It discusses " Some Problems Concerning Her," and considers in 
a clear, concise way whether woman should have a college education ; what 
her course should be ; what environment is suited to her best development ; 
and what method is preferable, whether coeducation, coordinate education, 
or separate education in colleges for women alone. The arguments for and 
against each are stated fairly, but the coordinate method is advocated, 
since the men and the women may then have the same professors, the same 
libraries, the same administration of justice, and yet be in distinct colleges 
and separate class rooms. Dr. Thwing also considers a number of practi- 
cal questions, such as the matter of rooms, of exercise, of regular habits. 
He believes that a girl should not sleep and study in the same room, and that 
she should be bound by as few rales as possible, though he would retain the 
ten o'clock rule. He sees no reason why the college girl should not be the 
healthiest and happiest in the world, and he claims for her a large share in the 


evolution of a nobler civilization, finding her proper sphere of influence in 
the home, which "exists for nothing less than Humanity." The Baker & 
Taylor Co., Publishers, New York. $1.00. 

We have received this month a most attractive little book entitled 
" Wesleyan Verse." That college verse is well worth preservation, was 
proved by the excellence of a collection called " Cap and Gown," which 
came out two years ago ; and we are glad to welcome another volume 
of a similar character. The muse sings in varying moods, and touches upon 
subjects grave as well as gay. If we enjoy the lighter themes most, it is 
because they seem better adapted to the pen of the undergraduate, who 
rightly glories in his youth, and cannot be expected to chant songs born of 
long experience. 

In the small volume entitled " Difficult Modern French," Monsieur 
Albert Tenne has collected extracts from the works of the most celebrated 
writers produced by France in this century. The basis of the selection was 
not the setting forth of any literary theory, nor yet the bringing together of 
the great masterpieces of fiction. It was merely to satisfy that oft-felt 
need of finding in some one book various articles which would display the 
chief difficulties of the French language. The full geographical and 
historical notes do away with many a knotty point, and leave the way clear 
for struggles of a more purely technical nature. But a careful study, in 
whatever line, of the writers here represented cannot fail to aid in the 
appreciation of the wonderful literary work accomplished by France within 
the last few years. Ginn & Co., Publishers, Boston. 


The regular meeting of the Agora was held December 15. After 
impromptu speeches on 

Secretary Carlisle's Currency Reform . Elva Young, 

The President's Message .... Miriam Hathaway, 

Situation in Armenia .... Elizabeth Ziegler, 

the following programme was presented : — 



City as a Corporation .... 
Campaign Methods in the City 
The Police in the City : its Organization 
and Duties ...... 

Caroline Davis. 
Gertrude Devol. 

Mary North. 

An informal discussion of the subjects followed. 

At a regular meeting of the Phi Sigma Society held Saturday evening, De- 
cember 8 , the following programme on the Realistic Short Story was presented : — 
The Art of Construction .... Miss Jacobus. 

A Comparative Study in Realism . . Miss Shaw. 

Music Miss Miller. 

The Influence of Society on the Short Story, Miss May. 

Presentation of Howells's "Mouse Trap." 

Miss Sue Huntington, Miss Marion Mitchell, '94, and Miss Mary Miller, 
'97, were present at the meeting. 

A meeting of the Classical Society was held Saturday, December 15. 
The second of two programmes on Herodotus was given : — 

Julia Randall. 

Ida Brooks. 

Caroline Peck. 

Elizabeth Haynes. 

Margaret Simmons. 

I. Herodotus as the Father of History . 
II. Herodotus as a Traveler 
ni. The Religious Ideas of Herodotus 
P7. Reading: "Letter to Herodotus," by 
Andrew Lang .... 
V. Selections : 

a (In Greek) Solon and Croesus 
b (Translated) Artemisia 

A social meeting of the Classical Society was held Saturday, December 
8, at the Eliot. 

A regular meeting of Tau Zeta Epsilon was held in Tau Zeta Epsilon Hall, 
Saturday evening, December 1 . The following programme was given : — 

Cologne, the City 

Fanny Carpenter. 

Annie Chute. 

The Cathedral 
The Museum 
Rubens . 
Queen Louise 

Warrene Piper. 

Elfie Graff. 

Lucy Willcox. 


A regular meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held, in Shakespeare 
Hall, Saturday evening, December 15. The following programme on 
Hamlet was given : — 

I. Shakespeare News .... Louise Loomis. 

H. A Study of the Plot of Hamlet . . Virginia Sherwood. 

III. Dramatic Representation. Act V., 

Scene 1. 

IV. The Lyric in Hamlet . . . Alice Hunt. 
V. The Supernatural of the Play . . Cornelia Park. 

VI. Tableaux: 

Act I., Scene 4. 
Act HI., Scene 4. 

Mary McLean, '96, and Florence Bennett, '97, were made members of 
the Society. Margaret Hardon, '92, was present at the meeting. 


Thursday, January 10. — Term opens. 

Saturday, January 19. — Examinations begin. 

Sunday, January 20. — Rev. C. S. Goodell preaches. 

Monday, January 21. — Concert. 

Sunday, January 27. — Rev. S. R. Fuller preaches. 

Thursday, January 31. — Day of Prayer. 

Sunday, February 10. — Rev. F. Mason North preaches. 


On Friday, November 30, the opening sendees were held in the newly 
completed chapel of St. Andrew's parish, AVellesley. An interesting 
address was given by the Rt. Rev. William Lawrence, Bishop of the Diocese. 
The chapel is an attractive little building of stone and wood, and its erection 
will supply a need which many have felt. It will always be a free church, to 
which strangers will be welcome ; and as the parish which supports it is itself 


small, it is hoped that friends of the church connected now or at any time in 
the past with the College, will feel interested in helping to build up a church 
home for those to come. 

College work was resumed Friday, November 30, after the short 
Thanksgiving recess. 

On Saturday afternoon, December 1, a lecture was given in the chapel by 
Mr. Henry Lloyd, of the Carpenters' Union of Boston. His subject was 
" Trades-Unions and Strikes." This lecture was one in the series which has 
been given this year before the departments of History and Literature. 

Professor Moore, of Andover, preached in the chapel Sunday, December 2. 

On Sunday evening, December 2, the regular monthly missionary 
meeting of the Christian Association was held. Miss Hodgkins addressed 
the meeting. 

A concert was given Monday evening, December 3, by Miss Eleanor 
Hooper. The entertainment of the evening consisted of a violin recital and 
of the reading of a romance written by Miss Hooper. 

On Saturday evening, December 8, some of the members of the 
Christian Association gave a social in the gymnasium. This was given for 
the entertainment of the servants in College Hall. 

Dr. H. A. Stimson, of New York, preached in the chapel Sunday, 
December 9. \ 

On Sunday evening, December 9, Miss Florence Ben Oliel addressed 
the College. She spoke of her mission in Jerusalem. 

The members of Phi Sigma living at Freeman gave a reception for the 
society Monday afternoon, December 10. 

An informal dance was given in the gymnasium Monday evening, 
December 10, by Miss Constance Emerson. 

Professor Francis Stoddard, of the University of New York, lectured 
before the College Monday evening, December 10. His subject was "The 
Romance of the Sixteenth Century." He considered the Arcadia, the New 
Atlantis, and the Utopia. The lecture was very interesting, and was fully 
appreciated by those who heard it. 


A unique entertainment for college was the doll show given in the 
gymnasium Saturday evening, December 15. Many members of the College 
have been improving their spare moments the past weeks, and the 
result was shown in the three hundred dolls which were exhibited. These 
dolls were dressed to be sent to the College Settlements for distribution 
among the children. 

Dr. Robbins, of the New York College Settlement, addressed the 
College Saturday afternoon, December 15. 

On Sunday, December 16, Dean Hodges, of Harvard, preached in the 

The usual Christmas vespers were held Sunday evening, December 
16. The singing was conducted by Professor Hill, and the Beethoven 
Society gave many beautiful and appropriate Christmas pieces. 

On Monday evening, December 17, a song recital was given in the 
chapel by Mr. Eliot Hubbard, of Boston. 

Miss Marsland, a former student of the College, read before the classes 
in Elocution Tuesday afternoon, December 18. 

Correction. The name of Helen Bisbee was given in the College notes 
for December as factotum of the Beethoven Society. This should have 
read Katherine Bisbee. 

College closed Wednesday, December 19, for a three weeks' vacation. 


The Connecticut Valley Wellesley Club was organized at a meeting held 
in the Y. M. C. A. building, Hartford, June 21. Twenty-four members 
were present. For the year '94— '95 the following officers were elected : 
President, Mrs. Telulah Abercrombie Douglas ; Vice President, Miss Flor- 
ence Fisherdick, '89 ; Secretary and Treasurer, Miss Katharine Horton, '89. 
Miss Knox was the guest of the occasion, and spoke of the changes in the 
curriculum and general life at Wellesley. Eight members of the Glee Club, 
who were at the meeting as the guests of Miss Edith Sawyer, rendered a 
number of Wellesley songs. The second meeting of the Club was held at 
Hotel Heublein, Hartford, November 10. The following members were 


present: Mrs. Jennie Chapman Wells, '82, Mrs. Elizabeth Hubbard, Mrs. 
Frances Scudder Williams, '85, Mrs. May Ely Mitchelson, '87, Miss Flor- 
ence Fisherdick, '89, Miss Katharine Horton, '89, Miss Amalie Sternberg, 
'91, Miss Mabel Clark, '92, Miss Jennie Loomis, '92, Miss Laura Mattoon, '94, 
Miss Caroline Saxton Eveleth, Miss Minnie Webster, and Miss Helen Alden. 
Lunch was served at 2 p. m. ; a letter was read from Miss Grace Cooley, who 
wrote of the year then beginning at Wellesley ; and the social hour that 
followed was all too short for the exchange of greetings and Wellesley news. 

A meeting of the Chicago Wellesley Club was held November 17. 
Miss Clara Helmer, '93, was made President, Miss Helen Hill, Secretary. 

A meeting of the Philadelphia Wellesley Club was held December 8. 
An account of the meeting may be given in the February Magazine. 

The fall meeting of the Electoral Board of the College Settlements As- 
sociation was held at 617 St. Mary Street, Philadelphia, October 27, 1894. 
Twenty-one electors were present, — from Wellesley, two, Vassar, one, Bryn 
Mawr, two, Radcliffe, one, Wells, one, Cornell, one, Swarthmore, one, El- 
mira, two, Mt. Holyoke, one, Woman's College, Baltimore, two, noncolle- 
giate, one, associate members, six. The morning session was spent in the 
transaction of business. After lunch, reports from the settlements in New 
York, Boston, and Philadelphia were read by their respective head workers, 
and a paper was read by Miss Helena S. Dudley, of Denison House, on 
"The Relation of Settlements to the Industrial Problem." 

Miss Vida D. Scudder is studying at the Sorbonne. Her adcbress is 86 
Boulevard de Port-Royal. 

The friends of Miss Marion Metcalf, '80, will be sorry to know of the 
death of her mother and seventeen-year-old l)rother. Miss Metcalf has been 
obliged to give up her work at Hampton, and to return to her home in Elyria, 

Miss Anna Brown, '83, is President of the Philadelphia branch of the 
Association of Collegiate Alumna?. 

Dr. Harriet Rice, '87, is a resident physician at Hull House. 



Miss Venette Crain, '88, is spending the winter at Hull House, Chicago, 
and has in charge the Relief Work. 

Miss Harriet Stone, '88, is the recording secretary of the Chicago 
Branch of the Association of Collegiate Alumnae. Miss Maud Straight, '92, 
is its treasurer. 

Among the literary students who have gone out from Wellesley should 
be noted Miss Margaret Steele Anderson, of Louisville, Ky., who pursued 
special studies in English literature and kindred subjects at the College 
during the year '87-88. Miss Anderson has since published a few poems in 
the Cosmopolitan and the JVeiv England Magazine, little in quantity, but 
delicate and true in quality. Our selection is taken from the Cosmopolitan 
of September, 1892 :— 


Up to the little grave, all blossom-kept, 

They went together. And one hid her face, 
And sobbed aloud the child's dear name, and wept. 

The other stood apart a little space, 
With dim and wistful eyes. "Dear Lord," she said, 
" It must be sweet, although the child is dead! " 

Miss Caroline L. Williamson, '89, has returned home from Philadelphia, 
where she attended the meeting of the Electoral Board of the College Settle- 
ments Association, visited Mrs. Mary Bean Jones, '89, Miss Mary Stinson, 
'89, Miss Helen Foss and Miss Harriet Blake, '94, Miss Florence Hoopes, 
'93, and spent three days at the Philadelphia Settlement. Miss Williamson 
spends four mornings at Hull House, one at the University Settlement, is 
studying music, is a member of the Library Committee of the Y. W. C. A., 
is a member of the Friday Club, and is reading German and Italian. 

Miss Rosa Dean, '90, has an article on " Indian Teaching Service under 
the Civil Service Law," in The School Journal for Nov. 3, 1894. 

Miss Ethel Glover, '90, has a club of little girls on Saturday afternoons 
at the University Settlement, 4655 Gross Avenue, Chicago. She spent her 
Christmas vacation in residence at the Settlement. 

The address of Miss Evangeline Hathaway, '90, is 2 Grove Street, 
Oxford, England. 


Miss May Newcomb, '91, spent her vacation with Miss Caroline L. 
Williamson, '89, in Chicago. 

Miss Madeleine Freeman, '92, is assistant in the High School of Thomp- 
sonville, Conn. 

Miss Maude Straight and Miss Virginia Dodge, both of '92, are taking 
the library course at the Armour Institute, Chicago. 

Miss Florence Wilkinson, '92, and Miss Josephine Redfield, '91, are 
teaching in the same Grammar School, Hyde Park, Chicago. 

Miss Tadzu Sugiye, '91-94, is teaching in Osaka, Japan, in a Christian 
school for girls. Miss Sugiye is at the head of the literary department of 
the school, and in writing of her work she says : "I teach three classes in 
Chinese literature, two in English, one in the history of Japanese literature, 
and one in botany. Besides, I have to correct the Japanese compositions 
produced from the classes, and to give a lecture each week on the Japanese 
rhetoric. Added to all these, I have to give lessons in Yankee cookery. 
Though we are so busy in our daily work, we are yet bold enough to spend 
the rest of our time in editing a quarterly magazine, and we have just 
published the first number of this." 

Laura C. Green, '93, is teaching in the High School at Pittsfield, Illinois. 
Miss Green held the same position last year. 

Miss Laura H. Jones, '93, is at home studying German and music. 

Miss Nan M. Pond, '93, is taking the two years' course at the State 
Library School, Albany, N. Y. 

Miss Mary R. Tooker, '93, is at home, East Orange, N. J. 

Miss Mary Newton Young, '93, is spending the winter at her home in 
Mittineague, Mass. 

Miss Mabel Keller, Mus., '94, spent the vacation in Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Miss Fan Sanderson, '93, and Miss Minnie Van Slyke, '89-90, spent 
Sunday, December 2, at College. 

Miss Harriet Tuell, '91, Miss Agnes Damon, '93, Miss Mary Hazard, 
'93, Miss Lillian Quinby, '94, spent Sunday, Decembe" 9, at the College. 


Miss Grace Cunmiings, '91, and Miss Edith White, '93, were at the 
College December 15. 

Miss Marion Wilcox, '93, spent Sunday, December 16, at College. 

Miss Ruth Clark, '92-93, spent several days at the College in December. 

Miss Mabel W. Learoyd, '94, is teaching Latin and Greek in McLean 
Seminary, Simsbury, Conn. 

Miss Anna H. Blauvelt, '94, is teaching in Elizabeth, N. J. 

Miss Annie May Henderson, '94, is teaching in the Worcester, Mass., 
High School. 

Miss Mary E. Hart, '92-94, is teaching in Glendale, Ohio. 

Miss Julia S. Buffington, '94, is now in Japan, where she will spend ten 
weeks. She started on July 23, 1894, to spend a year in traveling around 
the world. 

This year there are nearly forty Americans at Oxford, England, most of 
them students ambitious to reflect credit upon themselves and their beloved 
country. Wellesley has three representatives, — a larger number than any 
other one college, at least than any other woman's college. Miss Sherwin, 
'90, is pursuing courses in History, Miss Hathaway, '90, is studying Latin, 
and Miss Macaulay, '92, English Literature. The facilities for study, 
especially in the line of Classics and History, are unsurpassed. On Thanks- 
giving evening a reception was held by the Americans in honor of the day, 
and the occasion proved to be so enjoyable that an American Club has been 
formed. This club will be partly literary and partly social in its nature. 

Through the kindness of Miss Coman the series of lectures on current 
events, which is being given at Wellesley Saturday afternoons, is repeated at 
the Old Colony Chapel, Boston, Monday afternoons, for the friends and 
neighbors of Denison House. Miss Coman and Miss Kendall have already 
spoken there, and Miss Bates and Miss Knox are expected for the first two 
meetings in January. The course is well attended and very much enjoj^ed. 

A class in History of Art has been started at Denison House by Miss 
Kitty Payne Jones, Wellesley, '85. The class meets every Monday evening, 
and the Arundel prints have been kindly loaned by the Art Museum to 
illustrate the lectures. 


A class in gymnastics, meeting Monday evenings, has been recently 
started by Denison House. 

The following is a notice of Denison House Conferences : A series of 
lectures on social and industrial problems is arranged for the first Mondays in 
the month at four o'clock in the afternoon. The following speakers are 
expected : November 5, Helena S. Dudley ; December 3, Robert A. Woods ; 
January 6, Dean Hodges ; February 3, Rev. Robert E. Ely ; March 3, John 
Graham Brooks. 

from the new york college settlement. 

95 Rivington Street, New York City. 

Christmas time at the Settlement was, as usual, a busy and merry 
season. The Christmas tree blazed beneath its lighted candles full seventeen 
different times, before as many different groups of wondering children, merry 
young men and maidens, and the quieter, but no less pleased, older folk. 

We try to make the children feel that the Christmas season is a time for 
giving rather than receiving, and for weeks beforehand the little boys and 
girls in the clubs were busy fashioning with needle and thread, or penknife 
and wood, some little gift for each mother. 

On the Sunday before Christmas our doors were thrown hospitably 
open to any small people who happened to be lingering in the vicinity of the 
Settlement steps. The children poured in until the rooms were full to over- 
flowing ; then, while they watched the fairy tree flash and sparkle in the 
candlelight, they listened to the beautiful story of the first Christmas, and 
learned to sing the merry Christmas songs. On Christmas day a party of 
twenty-five children, under the charge of several of the "residents," went 
into the country to the home of one of the friends of the Settlement, where 
they spent an ideally happy day. 

One hundred and twenty-five new mammas would like to say "Thank 
you " to all the unknown Wellesley Mends who sent the Christmas dolls. 

Miss Emily Shultz, '94, spends Monday afternoons at the Rivington 
Street Settlement, assisting in the Rosebud Club. 


Miss Candace Stimson is a member of the local committee of the New 
York Settlement. She also has charge of the Keystone Club, which meets 
on Thursday evenings. 

Miss Grace Andrews, '89, and Miss Abbie Goodloe, visited the New 
York Settlement in December. 


Burns-Clough. — On Tuesday, December 18, 1894, Miss Bertha H. 
Clough, '93, to Mr. Randall White Burns. At home Tuesdays after Feb- 
ruary 1, 2420 Michigan Avenue, Chicago. 

Goodrich-Stephens. — On Tuesday afternoon, November 27, at the 
Madison Square Presbyterian Church, New York City, by the Rev. Charles 
H. Parkhurst, D.D., assisted by the Rev. Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D., Annie 
Blair Stephens, '83-85, to Rev. Chauncey William Goodrich. The Rev. 
Mr. Goodrich, with his bride, will sail for Europe in the steamship Fuerst 
Bismarck on December 8, to remain abroad for some months. 


Nov. 23, 1894, a son, George Rolfe Humphries, to Mrs. Florence Yost 
Humphries, instructor in Latin, '88-89. Mrs. Humphries' home is 2348 
West Twenty-first Street, Philadelphia. 

Nov. 20, 1894, in Pittsfield, a second daughter to Mrs. Florence 
Newman Peirson, Art Sp., '86-90. 

November, a son to Mrs. Nettie Parker McCauley. 

Easton, Penn., to Mrs. Nellie Tilton Warfield, '86, a girl. 

Philadelphia, Penn., to Mrs. Mabel Wing Castle, '87, a girl. 

Maiden, Mass., Nov. 11, 1894, a daughter, Lois, to George H. and 
Adelaide Alexander Perkins (Wellesley, '91). Mrs. Perkins' address is 203 

Cross Street, Maiden, Mass. 


Avon, N. Y., Oct. 15, 1894, Mrs. Emma Markham Puffer, mother of 
the Misses Isabel and Linda Puffer, Class of '91. 


Jameson & Knowles Company, 


Boots, Shoes, and 

Specialties: Custom Work, Party Shoes 


No. 15 Winter Street, Boston, 
u. s. A. 


Stationers & Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

No. 3 Beacon Street, 


R attention is called to our stock of 

Gold and Silver Stick Pins ! 
Birthday Gifts ! 

Souvenir Spoons, Souvenir Cups, 
Hair Ornaments. 

Toilet and Desk Furnishings in Sterling and Plated Silver; Marble and Iron Clocks, $6.00 to $20.00. 

Stock in all departments always complete. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

Cotrell & Leonard- 


New York, 

Makers of 

Caps and 

To the 

American . . 

Illustrated . .. 

Catalogue and 
9 Particulars on 

Artists' Materials ... 

££ Drafting Instruments. 
Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsworth, Howland & Co. 

82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston. 

Branch Store in the 

Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, 

Near St. James Avenue. 
Principal Factories 

Maiden, Mass., and Paris, Maine. 



Mackintoshes and Cravenettes, 


$2.00 TO $25.00. 

IHellesley Preparatory, 


Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores. 
. . . Special IO pel- cent to Wellesley Students . . . 


Metropolitan Rubber Co., 



Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A. 
Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A. 

Gloves and Veiling. 



Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid, Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that 

are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their 

patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount. 

Hotel Bellevue, 




Manufacturers of First-class 


Special attention given to Club Dinners and Receptions. 




Inferior Decorations, 

Nos. 38 to 48 Cornhill. 


cT A s b p d d \ r e r r 0W - -• • • BOSTON. 



in all Departments 
of Literature . 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety 
at special reductions. Large variety of 
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, etc. 

We are noted for low prices. 


The Archway Bookstore, 


Shreve, Crump I Low Co. 

Jewelers *» Silmsitis, 


Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 

Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Progams a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 


. .ONLY. . 

First Class AM Bar 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : — 
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special, 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


Hartford, New Havens New York. 



9.00 a. m. (ex. Sunday) 3.30 p. m. 

11.00 a.m. (ex. Sunday) 5.30 p.m. 

4.00 p.m. (daily) 10.00 p.m. 

11.00 p.m. (daily) 6.41a.m. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc., apply 
to nearest ticket agent. 


General Passenger Agent. 




Golf, Tennis, Basket Ball, Gymnasium, and 
General Athletic Goods. 

SWEATERS in Great Variety. 

Special discount of (5 per cent to Wellesley Students. Send 
for Catalogue. 


No. 344 Washington Street, 



11 John Street, New CJork, 

Designer and Maker 

Society Badges, 
Fraternity Pins, 
Rings, Emblem 
Jewels of every 

MEDALS — Trophies for presentation, from original 
and artistic designs. Special designs, with esti- 
mates, furnished on application. Inquiries by 
mail promptly attended to. We send design 
plates FREE upon request. 

Wellesley Pins can be obtained from Miss Eliz= 
abeth Stark, Business Manager of Magazine. 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year; 
Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman, 
Sarah P. Eastman. 

TKHelleslei? Ipbarmac\>, 




Trunks and Bags, 

Pure Drugs and Medicines. 

No. 22 Cliauncy Street, 

Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 



Don't miss seeing 

What we can do with our 


Toward deeoraiions for a. 

Butterfly Luncheon. 

Effects are most delicate and 
striking: and can be duplicated 
in no otlier material. 

The spread will be on exhibition at our art rooms 
for the next two weeks. 


No. 28 Franklin Street, Boston. 

For Fine Millinery 



No. 21 Temple Place, 


., (PKENISON-)' 

Corns, 25 cents: 


plaster for tender feet, 25cts. 

Ladies' and Gentlemen's rooms 

entirely separate 


The Senior Class Photographer 
is . . . 

Charles W. Hearn, 

No. 392 Boylston Street, 
Boston, Mass. 

Arrange dates with the Senior Class Photograph 
Committee : 

Miss Bertha Morrill. 
Miss Caroline Jacobus. 
Miss Sophie Voorhees. 

Also Photographer to 

Amherst College 

Dartmouth College 

Mt. Holyoke College . 

B. U. College of Liberal Arts 

Lasell Seminary 

Wesleyan University 

Etc., etc. 


of Art. 

A bicycle catalogue 
can be more than a 
mere price-list of 
the maker's goods. 
It can be beautiful 
with the best work 
of noted artists and 

designers. Rich in information besides. Such a 

book is the 

Columbia Bicycle 

which tells of New Model Columbias, their points 
of excellence, and their equipment. The book is 
free at any ( Columbia agency, or is mailed for two 
■2-cent stamps. You who propose to ride cannot 
do without it, for it tells of the best bicycles — 





$60 $50. 

The Columbia Desk Calendar will make work at your desk 
easier and pleasanter. By mail for ten cents in Btamps. 


General Offices and Factories, 





Leonard N. Howe, D.M.D, 


Corner Bojlston and Tremont Streets, 


Late Instructor of Operative and Surgical 
Dentistry in Harvard University. 

Office Hours, 9 A. M. to 5 P. M. 


Oculists' prescriptions correctly rilled. 
Glasses carefully fitted and adjusted to 
insure nose comfort. 

Ten per cent discount to 
Wellesley Students. 

All kinds of spectacle repairing neatly executed. 
References given. 

CHARLES W. HURLL, Jr., Practical Optician, 

409 Washington St., (between Winter and Bromfield Sts.) 

• • • Pine Carpets • • • 

the finest line of specialties in 

ever offered by us. these are all our patterns, with a full line 
of the famous london furnisher, 

William Morris's Patterns in Carpets and Hammersmith Rugs. 

We feel that our Fall Stock will bear the Closest Inspection. 

Joel Goldthwait & Company, 

Nos. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston. 

Kid Gloves, Mittens, Hosiery, 

Ladies' Umbrellas and Mackintoshes. 

EQUIPOISE WAISTS sent, express paid, for inspection to any 
one at Wellesley College, with the privilege of returning, if 
not satisfactory, at our expense, or sending price by mail if kept. 


J. B. LEAIVIY, Walcott Building, NATICK, HA55. 





Session '94-95 opens October 1, 1894. Three years, Graded Course. Instruction 
by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories 
and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of 
the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 

For Catalogues, etc., address 


3 21 East 15th Street, New York. 


She : When we got our 
wheels last year we didn't 
suppose there could be any 
better ones, did we? 

He : No ; but the '94's are 
•ahead of them. They are 
better accommodated to the 
different heights of riders. 
They are lighter, because of 
the new Columbia seamless 

She : The saddles are 
more comfortable. 

He: And stronger, too. 
And these guards and break 
work will never let you catch 
your gown . 


She : Do you know what 
my gown is? The Columbia 
Bicycle habit. ReJftrn of 
New York designed it for the 
company, and it is just the 


and instructor in riding. Free 
instruction to purchasers. All 
orders promptly executed. 
Catalogues free on applica- 

Wellesley College, 

T 5 ftt to pe^de. 

}M /kd e/\- \K^f y € 




In every department of our store we allow Welles'./ 

Professors and Students a discount, 

generally 10 per cent. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 
Underwear and Art Embroideries 

are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
to every department. 


Tremont Street and Temple Place - - BOSTON, MASS. 

Formerly Designer for Celeste. 



In Attractive and Exclusive Designs specially 

adapted for young ladies, and not to 

be found elsewhere. 

SHAPES, constantly received and at 


ALLAND, 112 Tremont Street, 

Under Studio Building, Boston. 

146 Tremont Street, Boston. 

Branch of 

863 Broadway, SJ. Y. 

Pure, Fresla, and Delicious 


A Choice Selection of Fancy Baskets, 
Boxes, and Bonbonnieres constantly 
on hand at very reasonable prices. . . 

Mail Orders gi^en X»rt- *pt Attention. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Boston.